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QUEEN ELIZABETH 
From an original crayon drawing by F. Zuccero, made in London in 1575 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY 
PROBLEMS 

THE AUTHORSHIP OF THE 
SHAKESPEARE WORKS 

AN EXPOSITION OF ALL POINTS AT ISSUE, FROM 
THEIR INCEPTION TO THE PRESENT MOMENT 

BY 

JAMES PHINNEY BAXTER 

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS 



BOSTON AND NEW YORK 

HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 

1917 






COPYRIGHT, I915, BY JAMES PHINNEY BAXTEK 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 

Published September igij 

Second Edition 
Published February iqty 



\X 






I DEDICATE 
THIS BOOK TO MY WIFE 

IN WHOSE 

PRESENCE IT WAS WRITTEN, YET WHO 

BEFORE IT CAME FROM THE PRESS 

LEFT ME ALONE 



The three important things Lord Palmerston 
was rejoiced to see, — "The reintegration of 
Italy, the unveiling of the mystery of China, and 
the explosion of the Shakespeare illusions." 

The Glory of God is to conceal a thing — as if 
the Divine Majesty took delight to hide his 
works. Bacon. 

Silence were the best celebration of that which 
I mean to commend. My praise shall be dedi- 
cated to the mind itself, — Mente Videbor, by the 
mind I shall be seen. Ibid. 

Read not to contradict and to confute 
Nor to believe and take for granted; 
Nor to find talk and discourse 
But to weigh and consider. 

Ibid. 

For my name and memory, I leave it to men's 
charitable speeches, and to foreign nations, and 
the next ages. Ibid. 

I returned, and saw under the sun, that the race 
is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, 
neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to 
men of understanding, nor yet favor to men of 
skill, but TIME and CHANCE happeneth to 
them all. 



TO THE READER 

Although much has been written upon the authorship of 
the "Shakespeare" Works, it has been impossible hitherto 
for readers to obtain a comprehensive understanding of the 
subject without an excursion into fields of controversy of for- 
bidding extent. It has seemed to me, therefore, a worthy 
task to present to them in a single volume a critical study of 
the entire subject, and, also, a review of the work of fellow 
students who have preceded me. To visualize my subject more 
vividly to them I have illustrated it pictorially, using much 
of my material as it was originally produced, though inar- 
tistic ; some of the portraits, for instance, being from photo- 
graphs of old and somewhat defaced canvases, which could not 
have been reengraved without impairing their character, and 
many of the minor illustrations from ancient books printed 
when wood engraving was a rude art. In my treatment of oppo- 
nents I hope that I have not held them in too light esteem, 
fully realizing that what we often believe to be principles and 
valorously battle for, not infrequently turn out to be but 
opinions, and that beyond them may be a wide field of debat- 
able ground. What I have written, however, is the result of 
conviction founded upon judgment. If this is deficient it should 
be apparent to the reader. 

James Phinney Baxter. 

Portland, Maine, 1915. 



PREFACE TO SECOND EDITION 

To my Critics: 

When I wrote The Greatest of Literary Problems, I was 
hoping to escape the charge of offensive dogmatism, inasmuch 
as, when expressing my own opinion upon a point at issue, 
I was careful to observe that I submitted it to the judgment 
of my reader, and acknowledged in my Preface that I realized 
that what we often believe to be principles for which we val- 
orously battle, not infrequently turn out to be but opinions 
beyond which may be a wide field of debatable ground. In- 
stead, however, of yielding me the credit of at least an at- 
tempt to be fair, some irreconcilable opponents of my thesis 
have bestowed upon me names unworthy to be applied, by 
any wayfarer in this world of doubt, to another. To those 
who have resorted to abuse and caviled at trivial points in 
my treatment of what I believe to be an important subject, 
I make no rejoinder, hoping that eventually they will give it 
due attention and show, if possible, wherein I have erred in 
my exposition of it. 

It is to those open-minded students who have really read 
my book and expressed approval of its "first three hundred 
and ninety pages or so," but disapproval of those treating of 
Bacon's authorship of works which have been accredited to 
others, and especially of ciphers, that I address myself. I 
doubt if they have sufficiently considered the fact that Francis 
Bacon was the inventor of a cipher for concealing messages 
in books, which he has described in his De Aiigmentis Scien- 
tiarum., and that there has been published a large body of 
literary matter, comprising historical and dramatic works, 
as well as an English version of the Iliad, which it is claimed 
were found concealed in cipher, not only in Bacon's acknowl- 
edged works, but also in the first "Shakespeare" Folio. This 

ix 



PREFACE TO SECOND EDITION 

claim is either true, a fake, or a delusion. Partisans for or 
against will not determine this, but scholars, who will find 
their most attractive field in the Iliad should it be published 
in full, with cipher illustrations, and a lucid exposition of the 
method of extracting the cipher from the works in which it 
is claimed to be concealed. 

In attempting to present to my readers an exhaustive study 
of my subject, it was necessary that I should devote due space 
to ciphers, and I am hoping that my unprejudiced readers 
will carefully reexamine this part of The Greatest of Literary 
Problems. It is interesting to note the constantly increas- 
ing attention which is being given to Bacon's authorship of 
the "Shakespeare" works. A department of The Riverbank 
Research Laboratories of Geneva, Illinois, among its other 
work has begun an investigation of Bacon's " Biliteral Cipher 
in his Philosophical Works," and those bearing the name 
"Shakespeare." The information gathered in this branch of 
research is being used for the instruction of students, and 
several of the principal educational institutions of the coun- 
try have been invited to send representatives to Chicago, 
free of expense to them, for the purpose of examining the 
work which has already been accomplished. A local school 
with several scholarships has been established for students, 
with a correspondence branch for those who desire to study 
at home, and a prize of five hundred dollars offered for the 
three best dissertations on one or more phases of the subject. 
Moreover, "The Academy of Baconian Literature" has been 
incorporated, and a course of illustrated lectures on "Ciphers 
in Elizabethan Literature" is to be delivered in various cities 
in the United States. 

James Phinney Baxter 

Mackworth Island, 191 7 



CONTENTS 

Prologue xlx 

Why and how the Shakspere-Bacon Controversy came 
about 

I 

The Setting of the Stage .1 

The Elizabethan Age and its Influence in shaping the 
Thoughts and Acts of the Men of the Time 

II 

The Theme 19 

The Greatest Birth of Time — The "Shakespeare" Works and 
how they have been regarded by Commentators and Critics 

III 

The Ghost of Hamlet 32 

William Shakspere of Stratford — In London — His Favorite 
Role 

IV 

The Greatest of Literary Problems .... 65 
All that is known of him and supposed to be known of him — 
An Attempt to ascertain if the Author's Face shows in his Off- 
spring — As seen by Contemporaries — The Quartos — The 
Folios — Henslowe's Diary — Plays excluded from First 
Folio — Second, Third, and Fourth Folios — Blind Guide-? 

V 

A Study of other "Shakespeare" Plays . . . 163 
Do they reflect the same Face? 

VI 

Mythical Relics 224 

A Criticism of all the Relics in Existence accredited to the 
Actor with Comparative Illustrations 

xi 



CONTENTS 

VII 

A Crucial Question 269 

An Essay in Graphology — Facsimiles from Will and other 
Documents — A Critic criticized, etc. 

VIII 

Francis Bacon, Viscount St. Albans, Baron Verulam 

OF Verulam 297 

A Review of his Life from the Various Angles of his Biogra- 
phers from Rawley to Spedding — His Role — The Promus 

— The Northumberland Manuscript 

IX 

The Sonnets 378 

The Great Assizes holden in Parnassus 

X 

The Rose Cross 392 

A Study of the Cult and its Bearing on the Secret of Bacon's 
Life 

XI 

Symbolism 405 

What it was and the Use it anciently performed — Water- 
Marks — Cryptograms — Title-Pages — Anagrams — Acros- 
-tics 

XII 

Anonymous and Pseudonymous Authorship . . .436 
Edmund Spenser 

XIII 

A Literary Syncrisis 464 

Peele — The Arraignment of Paris — David and Bethsabe 

XIV 
Masks 479 

Robert Greene — Christopher Marlowe — Thomas Kyd 

— Burton 

xii 



CONTENTS 

XV 

Thumb Marks 489 

Curious Proofs determining the Authorship of the "Shake- 
speare" Works 

XVI 

Ciphers 521 

The Word-Cipher — Method of Applying — The Biliteral 
Cipher — The Ciphers in Bacon's Works — The "Argenis" 
— Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex — The Queen's Ring 

Epilogue 615 

A Summary showing where the Actor and the Courtier were, 
and what they were doing at Stated Periods of their Lives 

Bibliography 633 

Index 665 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

Elizabeth Tudor Frontispiece 

The Droeshout, The Felton, The Chandos, The 
Janssen Shakspere 229 

The Ashbourne, The Grafton, The Zucchero, The 
Sanders Shakspere 235 

The Zoust, The Stratford, The Eli House, The 
Flower Shakspere 237 ' 

The Jennings, The Burn, The Winstanley, The Bel- 
mont Hall Shakspere 239 

Shakspere Marriage Picture 241 

The Becker and Stratford Death Masks . . . 243 

Original Bust, Dugdale; Rowe; Present Bust . . 245 

Overlaid Portraits of the Actor and Bacon . 249, 251 

Inscription on the Tombstone 252, 522 

Stratford House, 1788; 1806; 1834; 1847; 1914 . 253, 255, 257 

The Seal Ring 263 

The Furness Gloves 264 

Shakspere Signatures 269 

Separate Letters in the Four Authentic Signatures 270 

Alternate Lines from Bacon's Promus and Mon- 
taigne's Essays 273 

Specimens of Bacon's Handwriting . . . . 274 

Facsimile Signature of the Actor and Nicholas . 275 

Facsimile Exhibits from the Will . , . 279-81-83 

Facsimile of Signatures of Francis Collins . •. 288 

XV 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

Bacon's Italian Signature 294 

Francis Bacon at Twelve; at Eighteen; at Middle Age 297 

Facsimile of Seal of Thomas Bushell . . .336 

Title-Page of Northumberland MSS 372 

Effigy on Bacon's Tomb 377 

Title-Page Great Assizes 387 

Dramatis Person-s: 389. 

Paper Marks, Cryptic Head-Pieces . . . 409,412 

Time revealing Truth 415 

Fortune casting down the Actor . . . . . 416 . 

Emblem of the Hand and Curtain 417 

Title-Page Cryptomenytices 418 

Cipher Key 419 v 

Facsimile Title-Page in Bacon's Henry VII . . 420 

Facsimile Title-Page in Montaigne's Essays . . 422 

Facsimile Title-Page in Sermones Fideles, 1641 . 424 

Facsimile Title-Page in De Augmentis, 1645 . . 425 ^ 

Bacon's Notes to Plato, compared with his Notes in 

Montaigne's Essays, 1588 423 

Nemesis with Bridle 424 

Title-Page to Spenser Folio of 1611 .... 427 

Spenser's Tomb .... 442 

Portraits of Spenser (the Kinnoull; the Wilson) . 460 

Title-Page Bright's Melancholy 487 

Map of Bohemia i6th Century 495 

In Dies Meliora 517 

Bacon's Alphabet in Two Letters . . . . 531-32 

xvi 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

The "I.M." Poem, infolding Bacon's Message, Fac- 
simile 534 

The Same with German Message infolded by Author 538 

Enlarged Letters of the Two Fonts found in the 
Poem 539 

Enlarged Alphabet of the Two Fonts found in the 
Digges' Poem 540 

Sonnets xxxii, xxxvi, xxxviii, with Poem in Cipher 
INFOLDED 54i~43 

Mallock's Illustrations 576, 578 

Robert Devereux 593 

Robert Dudley 595 

Inscription in Beauchamp Tower 611 

The Warner and Queen's Rings 614 

Colophon 631 

Note to Bibliography in Bacon's Own Biformed Alpha- 
bet USED IN his De AuGMENTIS, INFOLDING CiPHER 

Message 634 



PROLOGUE 

It was a custom of old to introduce a play with a prologue, 
in which was struck the keynote of the theme, to attune the 
sympathies of the auditors to the scheme of the drama about 
to be unfolded to view; so I venture to follow the ancient 
fashion, since 

All the world 's a stage 
And all the men and women merely players. 

The action of our drama lies within the meager compass of 
a half-century, between the meridian splendor of the last 
Tudor reign and the waning of that of the first Stuart, a period 
crowded with events of more real import to the English race 
than any other in its annals. It was an era of feudal splendor 

— emblazoned banners — plumes — purple and cloth of gold 

— the glint and clangor of steel — ruthless emblems of auto- 
cratic rule. It was, too, one of cruelty and corruption ; of an 
illiteracy hampered by a rude jargon of popular speech, the 
survival of a less civilized age. As the pageant in imagination 
sweeps on before our eyes amid the moil and murk of the 
streets, riding high on the tumultuous waves of applause from 
the mob, in whose shadowy minds it seemed a realization of 
the visions of old romance, of which they had glimpses in 
filthy inn-yards, and the low theaters in the purlieus of Shore- 
ditch and Moor-fields, we wonder if this tinsel can be trans- 
muted into gold, this rude speech transformed into the ex- 
pression of a divine ideal. 

Outside of these hopeless conditions, rumors of wars, of 
Jesuit plots, of Scotch intrigues, filled the public mind with 
apprehension of evil; for there was no time when the black 
shadow of Spain's mailed hand did not dim the glow of 
English firesides; no time in which the suspicion of French 

xix 



PROLOGUE 

dissimulation did not give edge to the fears of an entente with 
the ogre of the Escurial. 

Yet this epoch had its heroes — Drake, who through fire 
and blood encompassed the world ; Gilbert, who sang his swan 
song amid tempest and gloom, triumphant in the thought that 
heaven was as near him as in his beloved Devonshire; Fro- 
bisher, who drove his frail keel through the ice-locked portals 
of Boreal seas; and scores of others, who, on sea and land, 
proved the invincible courage of the English heart. Those in 
power, however, paid them scant heed, and they played their 
great roles, and made their exits, leaving no deep impress 
upon the minds of their contemporaries, except, perhaps, 
Drake, who struck Spain such a staggering blow that it stirred 
the enthusiasm of his phlegmatic countrymen, though his 
stingy sovereign haggled over its cost. 

However imperfect and inadequate this outline of a remark- 
able epoch, it seems beyond credence that it held a capability 
of reformation ; yet it is true that during its existence a remark- 
able transformation took place in the thought and expression 
of the English mind. The language of Tudor England, defiled 
by the barbarisms of a rude age, began to purge itself of its 
crudities, and to enrich its vocabulary with new vehicles of 
thought, giving it flexibility, and enlarging its scope of expres- 
sion. To realize what was accomplished within the brief 
period we have named, it will be suggestive to compare the 
King James version of one of the psalms, or Bacon's "New 
Atlantis," with this excerpt from the dedication of a poem to 
Lord Wilton in 1576, by George Gascoigne, one of the fore- 
most literary men of his day: — 

I haue loytered (my lorde) I confesse, I haue lien streaking me 
(like a lubber) when the sunne did shine, and now striue al in 
vaine to loade the carte when it raineth. I regarded not my 
comelynes in the May-moone of my yvthe, and yet now I stand 
prinking me in the glasse when the crowes feete is growen vnder 
mine eie. 

XX 



PROLOGUE 

Or this from a letter of Queen Elizabeth In 1594: — ■ 

What danger it bredes a king to glorifie to hie and to soudanly 
a boy of yeres and counduict, whos untimely age for discretion 
bredes rasche consent to undesent actions. Suche speke or the 
way, and attempt or the considar. The waight of a kingly state 
is of more poix than the shalownis of a rasche yonge mans hed 
can waigh, therfor I trust that the causeles zele that you have 
borne the hed of this presumption shal rather cary you to extirpe 
so ingratius a roote, in finding so sowre fruite to springe of your 
many favors ivel-acquited, rather than to suffer your goodnis to 
be abused with his many skusis for coulors of his good men- 
ings.^ 

We may well inquire how this change was Inaugurated and 
carried to a successful issue. It could not have sprung up and 
come to fruition by dissociated individual effort. A presiding 
genius was required to foster and direct Its growth. Across the 
Channel It was Ronsard, who, designing to regenerate the 
language of France, and perpetuate it in his own literary pro- 
ductions, associated with himself others whom he encouraged 
to like effort. Who In England could have undertaken this 
great work ? What was its beginning .? If we attune our ear 
to distinguish amid the prevailing dissonance its primal note, 
we shall unmistakably trace it to the oaten pipe of the gentle 
Colin, whose haunting melody holds our attention, and, 
following these strains with awakening sense, we shall hear 
them reechoed until they culminate in that symphony of the 
greatest master of poetic numbers, the author of "Lucrecc," 
of "Hamlet," and of the "Sonnets." 

When, however, we seek the inspired mortals, whom we are 
told caught the sweet strains of the artless Shepherd, and 
came singing down the shining steeps of Olympus with a di- 
vine message to ennoble their fellowmen, we find them in dens 
of infamy, the tippling-shop, the gambling-hell, the brothel, 
and are moved to exclaim, — Such a paradox is monstrous ; 

^ Letters of Queen Elizabeth and King James VI, p. 109. Bruce, London, 
1849. 

xxi 



PROLOGUE 

God does not ordain the vilest among men to be his messen- 
gers of peace and enhghtenment to mankind : — and, certainly, 
the men to whom our pretentious guides have introduced us 
were among the vilest of their kind. No wonder the world 
is awakening to the necessity of a higher criticism than that 
with which it has hitherto been cloyed, and turning to one 
incomparable genius, who, voicing the primal strains of the 
Renaissance in Tudor England, bore them on with ever- 
swelling majesty to the close of the grand symphony which 
ended with his life. This great genius I hope to show was 
Francis Bacon, Baron Verulam, Viscount St. Albans. Time 
was when I should have dismissed this thesis with impatience, 
but I am hoping that my readers will weigh the evidence I 
adduce before condemning me as a mere theorist. 

It will be objected at the outset that Bacon could not have 
written that great body of philosophy, the "Shakespeare" 
Works, and others to which we have alluded, and have had 
any time left to perform his political duties, to say nothing of 
the common affairs of life. To answer this I cite his habit of 
utilizing his time, even its moments. Those intimately associ- 
ated with him witness to this. Says Rawley : "He would ever 
interlace a moderate relaxation of his mind with his studies, as 
walking or taking the air abroad in his coach, or some other 
befitting recreation." ^ 

Boener and Bushell, both his amanuenses, give like testi- 
mony. His great philosophical works were written in an 
incomparably short space of time, while he was in great mental 
distress. Says Rawley: "The last five years of his life — he 
employed wholly in contemplation and study — in which time 
he composed the greatest part of his books and writings, both 
in English and Latin." ^ 

His public duties, apparently uncongenial, occupied but a 
small portion of his time, so that the much longer time which 
this man of ceaseless activity had to devote to more congenial 

^ Rawley's Life, p. 48. ' Ibid., p. 43. 

xxii 



PROLOGUE 

pursuits becomes an argument in favor of his occupation in 
other than philosophical fields of labor. Any one who will 
carefully study his various Lives will be convinced that he 
had ample time to produce all the works which have been 
ascribed to him, not excepting the poems and plays known as 
the "Shakespeare" Works. If it were necessary I could cite 
many examples of voluminous authorship. For a single 
instance, Thomas Heywood, a contemporary, claimed to be 
the author of two hundred plays besides much other literary 
work. There are thirty-six in the Folio. 

That it was a common custom for authors to use the names 
or initials of others on their productions cannot be questioned- 
Books, too, were often falsely dated. The author of "The 
Arte of English Poesie," published in 1589, says: "I know 
very many notable Gentlemen in the Court that have written 
commendably, and suppressed it agayne, or els suflfred it to be 
publisht without their owne names to it, as if it were a dis- 
credit for a Gentleman to seeme learned, and to shew himself 
amorous of any learned Art." 

Henry Cuffe, a scholar of distinction, not wishing to use his 
own name on a manuscript, sent it to a correspondent to ask 
Greville to permit him to publish it with his initials, and told 
his correspondent in case of refusal to print it with the initials 
R. B., which, he said, "some no doubt will interpret to be 
Beale." 

"The Historic of the Life and Death of Mary Stuart Queene 
of Scotland" was published in 1624, and the dedication bore 
the name of the supposed author, Wil Stranguage. In 1636, 
in a second edition, the same dedication bore the name W. 
Udall. Among the books which once masqueraded under 
assumed names, many still survive, and their ghostly authors 
grin at us behind their false masks so nicely adjusted to them 
by the editors of biographical dictionaries. 

Early in life I began reading the "Shakespeare" Works, 
very likely as the reader did, for amusement, and in time came 

xxiii 



PROLOGUE 

to realize, as no doubt the reader did, that they were written 
for instruction, the amusement serving as a lure to lead the 
mind by pleasant paths to loftier regions of philosophic 
thought. This revelation of a loftier motive than amusement 
in these remarkable works inevitably awakens in all a desire 
to become acquainted with their author. The result is disap- 
pointment. How, it is asked, is it possible that a strolling 
player to an ignorant rabble in inn-yards, or the London 
theater as it is described, could have been inspired with the 
ambition to promote an advancement of learning ? This has 
been the question of reflective minds the world over, and they 
have recorded their opinions. 

Said the German critic, Schlegel, in 1808, "Generally speak- 
ing I consider all that has been said about him personally to 
be a mere fable, a blind extravagant error." And Samuel 
Taylor Coleridge, in 181 1, "What! are we to have miracles in 
sport.? Does God choose idiots by whom to convey divine 
truths to man.?" 

Benjamin DisraeH wrote, in 1837: "*And who is Shake- 
speare,' said Cadurcis. — Did he write half the plays attrib- 
uted to him .? Did he ever write a single whole play ? I doubt 
it." And Ralph Waldo Emerson declared in 1838, that he 
could not "marry" him "to his verse," characterizing his 
life as "obscure and profane." ^ Said Joseph Hart, in 1848: 
" He was not the mate of the literary characters of his day, 
and none knew it better than himself. It is a fraud upon 
the world to thrust his surreptitious fame upon us. The in- 
quiry will be. Who were the able literary men who wrote the 
dramas imputed to him?" And William H. Furness,^ in 1866 : 
"I am one of the many who have never been able to bring 
the life of William Shakespeare and the plays of Shake- 
speare within a planetary space of each other; are there any 
two things in the world more incongruous.? Had the plays 

^ Representative Men, p. 215. Boston, 1866. 
^ The father of the literary ebeniste. 

xxiv 



PROLOGUE 

come down to us anonymously, had the labor of discover- 
ing the author been imposed upon after generations, I think 
we could have found no one of that day but F. Bacon to 
whom to assign the crown. In this case it would have been 
resting now on his head by almost common consent?" Said 
Edwin P. Whipple, in 1869: "To this individuality we tack 
on a universal genius, which is about as reasonable as it would 
be to take the controlling power of gravity from the sun and 
attach it to one of the asteroids." And Cardinal Newman, in 
1870: "What do we know of Shakespeare .f* Is he much more 
than a name, vox et prceterea nihil?" The same year James 
Russell Lowell wrote: "Nobody believes any longer that 
immediate inspiration is possible in modern times; and yet 
everybody seems to take it for granted of this one man Shake- 
speare"; and so on; Gervinus, Hawthorne, Ruggles, Dickens, 
Holmes, Walt Whitman, Professor Winchell, Whittier, Park- 
man; it would require a large volume to record all the testi- 
mony of this nature, and I adduce the foregoing to show that 
more thanacenturyago, students of the *' Shakespeare" Works, 
seeking an acquaintance with the Stratford actor, realized 
how impossible it was for him to have been their author. 

This feeling extended until the question was pressed, in 
1848, "Who were the able literary men who wrote the dramas 
imputed to him?" It was evident to most critics that in spite 
of some differences of style they were the product of one mind. 
Who, then, was this great literary genius ? A new interest was 
awakened in Elizabethan literature. Naturally the search 
began with dramatists and poets; Marlowe for a time was 
discussed and dropped; so were others. Deeper students, 
realizing that the poetic gems in the works which charmed so 
many were strung on a precious thread of philosophy, sought 
a poet among the philosophers, having taken a hint from 
Sydney who said: "The philosophers of Greece durst not a 
long time appear to the world but under the mask of poets. 
So Thales, Empedocles, and Parmenides sang their national 

XXV 



PROLOGUE 

philosophy in verse. So did Pythagoras and Phocylides their 
moral counsels." 

At this juncture Spedding's work on Bacon was published, 
in which it was seen that the great philosopher applied to him- 
self the now famous phrase, "A concealed poet"; and from 
this time attention was focused upon him, and the sentiment 
of thousands outside the influence of the Stratford cult, that 
there was but one man in England to whom the authorship of 
the "Shakespeare" Works could be assigned, became convic- 
tion. 

Spedding's work was published in 1857, and it was in this 
year that Delia Bacon in America, and William Henry Smith 
in England, simultaneously published the two pioneer works 
which opened the case of Bacon vs. Shakspere.^ Doubtless 
many had long entertained the opinions then made public, 
but withheld them, unwilling to face the storm of ridicule and 
abuse which threatened their announcement. Smith says that 
he formed his opinions twenty years before publishing them, 
and no doubt Miss Bacon had matured her views long before 
giving them to the world. She was a woman of remarkable 
intellect, a profound scholar, and merits a high place among 
the literary women of America; yet she and Smith, as well as 
Holmes, Mrs. Pott, Reed, and other faithful and conscien- 
tious students who have followed them, have been viciously 
assailed by those interested in Shaksperian books as authors, 
owners of copyright, their friends, and would-be friends; in 
fact, they have suffered the usual martyrdom of advocates of 
new truth by our modern Ephesians. 

Said Lee, "Why should Baconian theorists have any follow- 
ing outside lunatic asylums?" Dana, "The Mattoid flourishes 
in America because we have so large a proportion of half- 

^ The spelling of the actor's name is^so variable that we give, in all quo- 
tations, the forms found in them. When referring to him we use the form 
adopted by Knight, " Shakspere," or the term " actor." When speaking of the 
"Works," we use the form " Shakespeare," as it appeared on the title-page of 
the First Folio. 

xxvi 



PROLOGUE 

educated minds." Churton Collins, "And so this epidemic 
spreads till it has now assumed the proportions, and many of 
the characteristics of the Middle Ages." A writer in the 
"Literary World" calls Mr. Reed's scholarly books, "A posi- 
tive disgrace to literature." Brandes says, "A troop of less 
than half-educated people have put forth the doctrine that 
Shakespeare did not write the plays and poems attributed to 
him. Here it has fallen into the hands of raw Americans and 
fanatical women." Elze, "The so-called Bacon Theory is a 
disease of the same species as table-turning." Townsend, 
"Dirty work requires its peculiar instruments." The "Athe- 
naeum," "Mr. Smith denies the appropriation of Miss Delia 
Bacon's theory. The question may be of slight importance 
which of two individuals first conceived a crazy notion." 
Furnivall wrote to Reed, "Providence is merciful, and the 
U.S. folk are tolerant ; you 'd have been strung up on the near- 
est lamp-post else"; and Stapfer sneeringly alluded to it as 
"The famous paradox brought forward from time to time by 
some lunatic." Engel stigmatized Baconians as "Orthodox- 
minded lunatics, distinguished from such as tenant asylums 
in that they are still at large. People of this brain-sick habit, 
maniacs, are as hard to convince of their error as they who 
imagine themselves God Almighty, or the Emperor of China, 
or the Pope"; and said White, "When symptoms of the 
Bacon-Shakspere craze manifest themselves, the patient 
should be immediately carried off to an asylum, etc."; and 
Robertson, in this year of grace, is nearly as vitriolic, yet his 
book, "The Baconian Heresy," is but an apology for a defense 
of his thesis. 

I could quote a number as vulgar as the following from a 
writer intheNew York "Herald," who signs his name, B.J. A. : 
"The idea of robbing the world of Shakespeare for such a 
stiff, legal-headed old jackass as Bacon, is a modern invention 
of fools." 

There is no hope for men who treat fellow students in any 

xxvii 



PROLOGUE 

field of literary labor In this manner. The charge they make 
against them is lunacy, and, especially, lack of scholarship; 
both words are favorites with them; yet Disraeli, Gervinus, 
Hawthorne, Judge Nathaniel Holmes, Lowell, Dickens, Oliver 
Wendell Holmes, Massey, Gladstone, Winchell, Whittier, 
Professor Cantor, Judge Wilde, and many others who have 
expressed opinions adverse to these monopolists of scholar- 
ship, occupy quite as high rank in the world of letters as they ; 
indeed, when we examine the work of the Stratfordian revil- 
ers, we are astounded at its character and lack of accuracy. 
Probably in all literature there is no more faulty work to be 
found than in their treatment of the "Shakespeare" Works^ 
from Rowe to Lee, as I expect to show. It is probable that 
having laid myself so fully open to query, I shall be asked 
whether I also am able to swallow what several of the gentle- 
men I have quoted denominate "The Cipher fraud." In 
reply, as my object is to present to the critical reader a view 
of the Bacon-Shakspere controversy in its varied aspects, I 
shall not fail to treat this branch of the subject in its proper 
place ; but were I to omit doing so, I am hoping that the reader 
will find the evidence produced to be far more than needed to 
sustain the thesis I advocate. Should I be right or wrong in 
harboring this hope, I shall be especially grateful to receive 
the reader's opinion frankly expressed. 

I was asked by a friend why I had devoted so much time 
and thought to this subject, and he frankly remarked that 
to him it seemed to be of questionable importance, since we 
had the "Shakespeare" Works, and need not care who wrote 
them. Lest others be of the same mind, I will say that I 
replied to him that we owe an immense debt to the author of 
these works which we cannot afford to ignore by shirking the 
question of their authorship ; that it is a question of the great- 
est literary importance, and simple justice demands that it be 
settled righteously, if possible. Whether I have contributed 
toward accomplishing this the reader must judge. In the 

xxviii 



PROLOGUE 

elucidation of my subject I have carefully studied and com- 
pared the work of the various authors and critics who have 
written upon it, — the earliest editions of pre-Stuart and 
Stuart works bearing upon it ; the letters and works of Bacon ; 
the annals and correspondence, as well as the literature of the 
period, — and assure my readers that they do not have sec- 
ond-hand quotations in any case. I have supplied footnotes 
for their ready verification. All quotations from the "Shake- 
speare" Works are taken from the Folio of 1623, or the 
Quartos preceding it. 

One of the studies to which I devoted much labor and 
research very early in my work, and prepared for the press, 
I recently found had been treated by an excellent writer, and 
several phrases used by him are so near my own that it might 
appear that I had been inspired by his more recent work. I 
have not thought it necessary to change these expressions 
inasmuch as I have presented the subject much more exhaus- 
tively, and students, in our day, realize that men pursuing the 
same course of thought may fall quite naturally into similar 
forms of expression. 

My endeavor has been to meet all worthy arguments 
which have been urged against Bacon's authorship of the 
** Shakespeare" Works, that the reader may have a clear 
view of the greatest of Literary Problems. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY 
PROBLEMS 

I 

THE SETTING OF THE STAGE 

THE ELIZABETHAN AGE 

The reign of Elizabeth is one of the strikingly picturesque 
pages of history. The last of the Tudors, that family of royal 
despots who had ruled England with a heavy hand for eighty- 
three years, she came to the throne, we might well say by 
chance, if we regarded only the letter of history, and over- 
looked its Providential aspects, when the English people were 
yet striving to emerge from barbarity. This is instanced by 
the deplorable condition of society as disclosed by the annals 
of the time. 

The reigns of Henry VIII and of his elder daughter, who by 
her harsh rule earned the title of " Bloody Mary," have been 
pictured grimly in English annals, while the reign of his 
younger daughter, Elizabeth, who had inherited the few better 
traits of her father, as well as most of his numerous bad ones, 
has been colored too brightly by writers who have been 
dazzled by its brilliancy. Her family had come to reign in 
England as conquerors, and their ideal of government was the 
mailed hand and the supple knee. All the conditions existing 
at their advent favored despotic rule. With an ignorant and 
turbulent populace, no other seemed possible, and it soon 
became more oppressive than autocratic rule in Russia has 
been within the past century. The nobility monopolized the 
wealth and power of the realm, though the more numerous 

I 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

middle class, in spite of the obstacles of caste and custom 
which opposed it, was slowly attaining vantage-ground. The 
common people had no rights which they dared assert, and 
for the most part quietly submitted to their superiors, while 
those in official life held their positions by tenures too weak to 
permit them much repose, for they were ever conscious that 
they might at any time be cast out in disgrace by a caprice of 
their royal master, or through the machinations of those who 
had gained his ear. 

To question the absolute power of the monarch was trea- 
son. Sir Thomas More, statesman, jurist, and Lord Chan- 
cellor, went to the block because his conscience would not 
permit him to acknowledge the King's supremacy where it 
involved illegal divorce from his Queen, and an arbitrary 
change in the succession, as well as the Chancellor's own 
renunciation of one of his deepest rooted religious tenets. 
Said James I, "The absolute prerogative of the Crown is no 
subject for the tongue of a lawyer. It is presumption and high 
contempt in a subject to dispute what a King can do, or say 
that a King cannot do this or that." ^ 

All men are the creatures of heredity and environment, and 
the fruit of their endeavors, if it escapes final blight, is colored 
and flavored by them; hence, it was but natural that Eliza- 
beth, sired as she was, and reared to maturity in an atmos- 
phere of tyranny, should have had an invincible faith in the 
dogma of the divine right of monarchs to rule as they willed, 
and should have regarded official life as wholly dependent 
upon servile subservience to political necessity, that illusive 
but convenient phrase which has been thought to excuse the 
violation of human rights. 

In the Tudor family she was simply a dependent young 
woman without future prospects beyond those of other noble 
families, and she could have cherished no reasonable expecta- 
tion of ever reaching the throne. Her brother Edward suc- 

^ His Majesiie's Speach in the Starve Chamber. Robert Barker, London. 

2 



THE SETTING OF THE STAGE 

ceeded her father, and after a reign of six years gave place to 
her sister Mary, who, married to the Spanish Phihp, seemed 
certain to have heirs, even if she did not outhve her, for with a 
sister jealous of her every movement, and ready to suspect 
her of treason upon the slightest pretext, Elizabeth's chance 
of life was none too promising. She had given her family 
ample cause for distrusting her by a scandalous affair with 
Lord Seymour when in her sixteenth year. Says Lingard: 
"Seymour's attentions to the princess were remarked, and 
their familiarity was so undisguised that it awakened the 
jealousy of his wife by whom he was one day surprised with 
Elizabeth in his arms." Shortly after the wife conveniently 
died, her death being "attributed to poison," and we are told 
that he "redoubled his court to the princess; her governess 
was bribed, her own affections were won." 

From the testimony of Elizabeth's governess, "the reluc- 
tant Mrs. Ashley," as Lingard calls her, "it appears that the 
courtship was not conducted in the most delicate manner. 
The moment he was up, he would hasten to Elizabeth's 
chamber, 'in his night gown and barelegged': if she were still 
in bed, *he would put open the curteyns and make as though 
he wold come at her, and she would go farther in the bed, so 
that he could not come at her.' " ^ 

The wife of the Spanish minister, Feria, an English lady, 
was one of Queen Mary's household, and on Elizabeth's acces- 
sion went to Spain, where she resided until her death in 1612. 
In her "Life" is the following relating to the Princess Eliza- 
beth: — 

A great lady who knew her very well, being a girl of twelve or 
thirteen, told me that she was proud and disdainful. ... In 
King Edward's time what passed between the Lord Admiral, 
Sir Thomas Seymour, and her, Dr. Latimer preached in a ser- 
mon, and was chief cause that the Parliament condemned the 
Admiral. There was a bruit of a child born and miserably 

^ John Lingard, The History of England, vol. v, pp. 273, 274. Boston, 1883. 

3 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

destroyed, but could not be discovered whose It was, only the 
report of the midwife who was brought from her house blindfold 
thither, and so returned, saw nothing in the house while she was 
there but a candle light, only she said it was the child of a very 
fair young lady.^ 

It seems that a clandestine marriage v^as planned, "her 
governess w^as bribed, her own affections w^ere won," when it 
was realized that Elizabeth by such a marriage would forfeit 
her right to the succession. Parliament was therefore applied 
to. Elizabeth in a letter to the protector informed him of 
Seymour's proposal of marriage, and to a report that she was 
pregnant declared it to be "a shameful schandler." There is 
much more on this unsavory subject, but we have already 
quoted too much. 

In the summer of 1554, for supposed sympathy with the 
claims of Lady Jane Grey to the throne, she was thrown into 
the Tower, that gateway to the block, with Robert Dudley, 
whom she had known from childhood, and to whom she had 
shown marked favor at her brother's court. He was noted for 
his fascinating personality, and she would have been only too 
glad to marry him had he not been encumbered with a wife 
whom history affirms he subsequently disposed of in the hope 
of such a consummation; indeed, immediately following his 
wife's death, Elizabeth announced her intention of so doing, 
which prompted the Queen of Scots to declare that — "The 
Queen of England was about to marry her horse-keeper [he 
was master of horse], who had killed his wife to make a place 
for her." ^ 

After a life so disheartening as Elizabeth's had been, to 
be suddenly and unexpectedly elevated to almost unlimited 
power was an event which must have seemed to her miracu- 
lous, as it did to her friends. 

The kingdom at the time was menaced by dangers from all 

^ The Life of Jane Dormer, Duchess of Feria, p. 83. London, 1887. 
^ James Anthony Froude, M.A., History of England, vol. vii, p. 303. New 
York, 1867. 



THE SETTING OF THE STAGE 

sides: at home by civil strife embittered by religious differ- 
ences; on the Scotch border by plots and political disturb- 
ances; in Ireland by persistent rebellion; abroad by Rome, 
sullen and anxious for her humiliation; by France racially 
hostile and ever ready to do her an ill turn; by Spain, proud of 
her power, and confident in her destiny to extend it ultimately 
over the world; — these were the perils which Elizabeth faced 
when, dazzled by the pomp and glitter of her coronation, and 
intoxicated by the plaudits of the people, she ascended the 
throne. The effect may be imagined. Young, impulsive, with 
passions none too firmly held in check, she was gracious and 
imperious by turns, smiling on a handsome suitor, or dismiss- 
ing an offending courtier with, perhaps, a blow. Yet she per- 
mitted herself to be moulded to some extent by those about 
her who had chafed under the oppression of her predecessors; 
men whose minds, perhaps, had felt the vivifying influence of 
the Renaissance of France and Italy, which England had been 
backward in receiving. 

There is no wonder that the knightly blood of England 
warmed to this attractive woman, who possessed a sparkling 
wit and an education above the average of her time, which 
enabled her to use it to the best advantage; nor that the 
adventurous and romantic spirits of the realm rallied about 
her, ready to dedicate their lives to her service. No man 
could have secured such whole-hearted devotion, as well she 
knew, and fickle and wise by turns, she was clever enough to 
keep the helm, and, with a skilful navigator like Burghley 
ever at her elbow to give her the proper instruction, she man- 
aged to guide the Ship of State safely through storm and calm, 
and win the title of "Good Queen Bess." Yet "good" is far 
from the proper title for a woman, selfish, vain, extravagant, 
cruel, and despotic, all of which she was. As in the heart of 
Henry VIII, so in that of his daughter, who delighted in her 
inheritance of kindred traits, the power of love always suc- 
cumbed in the end to the love of power. Quite naturally she 

5 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

sympathized with the enthusiasts who gathered about her; 
even at times encouraged their progressive views, and looked 
kindly upon the Protestant cause which was affected by the 
mania, as it was regarded by those in power, of free thought ; 
but she had inherited the tyrannical disposition of her father, 
and readily turned a friendly ear to the ultra-conservative 
opinions of Burghley, and those to whom innovation of any 
kind bordered closely upon lese majeste. 

Yet she gave some encouragement to a progressive spirit, 
which exhibited itself in commercial and maritime enterprise, 
and made possible the hope of a humanistic awakening. But 
Tudor despotism was so deeply embedded in the laws, and its 
spirit so colored the opinions and shaped the customs of the 
people, that free thought could not find open expression safely; 
hence the dreamers of reform were unable to promulgate 
openly the views which they believed would emancipate the 
people finally from the stupefying influence of prejudice and 
custom which distorted their intellectual vision, for it seems 
beyond question that at no time during the reign of Eliza- 
beth, an open advocacy of reform which pointed to larger 
liberty of the subject in thought and action would not have 
been construed as touching the question of supremacy, which 
meant treason with its terrible penalties; indeed, the suspi- 
cion of treason, a word so elastic as to be stretched to almost 
any desired length, was ever in the air, and he whom it reached, 
though innocent, often had the bitter experience of rack, 
dungeon, and peine forte et dure, things which in process of 
time had become so familiar as not to disturb the social 
conscience. 

Even to express one's opinion upon questions of govern- 
mental policy, or to publish a history of a preceding reign 
which could be distorted into a reflection upon her govern- 
ment, was dangerous. For publishing a pamphlet opposing 
the French marriage, John Stubbs and Robert Page had their 
right hands severed at the wrist with a butcher knife and 

6 



THE SETTING OF THE STAGE 

mallet.^ Sydney was banished for the same offense, and Hay- 
ward, author of the "Annals," for pubUshing the first part of 
the history of Henry IV, was sent to the Tower, and would 
have gone to the block had not Bacon saved him from Eliza- 
beth's fury by his wit. "But," says Bruce, "although thus 
kindly sheltered from personal outrage, he suffered a long 
imprisonment." ^ 

Men were subjected to severe punishment on the slightest 
occasion. For so small a matter as kissing the Pope's toe, 
Sir John Danvers, returning from a journey from Italy, was 
subjected by Elizabeth to imprisonment. While torture was 
not recognized by law in the reign of Elizabeth, she seems to 
have regarded it as one of her prerogatives. Its worst result 
was the extortion of false evidence against the innocent by 
increasing the suffering of the poor victim until his testimony 
was satisfactory. About 1580 it was cruelly used against the 
Catholics to convict them of saying mass and exercising other 
religious rites. The cruelty of Elizabeth was especially exhib- 
ited in obtaining evidence against Norfolk. This was her order 
to Sir Thomas Smith, one of her councilors, respecting two 
witnesses, — "We warrant you to cause them both to be 
brought to the rack and first to move them with fear thereof 
to deal plainly in their answers ; and if that shall not move 
them, then you shall cause them to be put to the rack, and to 
find the taste thereof until they shall deal more plainly, or 
until you shall think meet." ^ 

Of Elizabeth's personality but little of a favorable character 
can be said. No woman could be more vacillating or more 
unreasonably stubborn than she, traits which often imperiled 
the realm, and put the patience of her ministers to the severest 
strain. Vain of her fancied beauty, — for, if her most flatter- 
ing portrait is true, she was but ordinarily fair, — she at all 

^ William Camden, History of Elizabeth, p. 270. London, 1688. 
^ Sir John Hayward, Kt., D.C.L., Annals of Queen Elizabeth, p. xiv. London, 
1840. 
3 The Trial of Norfolk, p. 27. 

7 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

times, even when old and ugly, demanded the most fulsome 
adulation from those about her, seeming to enjoy the amorous 
sighs and suggestive sufferings ostentatiously displayed by 
her favorites, whom she petted and punished as the whim 
prompted ; in fact, it is doubtful if reflections upon her beauty 
would not have caused them to "hop round without their 
heads," to quote one of her cruel expressions. She seems 
to have inherited all the violence and vindictiveness of her 
father. Her cruelty to Mary, Queen of Scots ; to Arundel, a 
former suitor, and his wife ; as well as to the Roman Catholics 
who comprised more than half of her subjects, indicates this. 
That she was an expert in the tortuous diplomacy of the time 
appears by the manner in which she avoided trouble with 
Spain by dangling her heart before Philip, while Burghley, at 
suitable intervals, sprung upon him the French jack-in-the- 
box. Her private life was a continual scandal. Though we 
have so little respecting this phase of her character, it is 
almost strange that we have so much, since the corrupt back- 
ground of her court failed to give it distinction, and to have 
criticized it would have been perilous, indeed. 

The Spanish ambassador, Le Feria, wrote his sovereign, 
April i8, 1559: — 

They tell me that she is enamoured of Lord Robert Dudley 
and never leaves his side. He is in such favor that people say she 
visits him in his chamber day and night.^ 

It was rumored — seemingly on Lord Robert's own authority 
— that some private but formal betrothal had passed between 
the Queen and himself.^ 

And Throgmorton wrote to Cecil from Paris : — 

The bruits be so brim, touching the marriage of the Lord 
Robert and the death of his wife, that I know not where to 
turn me, nor what countenance to bear.^ 

^ MSS. Simancas; Froude, vol. vii, p. 87. 

^ Froude, vol. vii, p. 297. 

^ Hardwicke Papers, vol. I, p. 1 21. 



THE SETTING OF THE STAGE 

And Sir Henry Sydney told the Bishop of Aquila that 

The Queen and Lord Robert were lovers: but they intended 
honest marriage.^ 

On January 22, 1561, the Bishop wrote: — 

Some say she is a mother already but this I do not believe.^ 

Was she really married to Dudley? When certain letters 
of the Bishop of Aquila fell into the hands of Cecil, and he was 
charged with having written Philip, *'That the Queen had 
previously married Lord Robert in the Earl of Pembroke's 
house," he replied : — 

I wrote what I said to the Queen herself, that it was reported 
all over London that the marriage had then taken place. She 
betrayed neither surprise nor displeasure at my words. Had I 
so pleased I might have written all this to his Majesty; nor do 
I think I should have done wrong had I told him the World's 
belief that she was married already.^ 

If this were true it would account for her persistent fenc- 
ing with matrimonial adventurers, and her deep attachment 
to Dudley which dominated her during her life, and drove 
Burghley to the verge of distraction. 

In spite of her sordid parsimony, which on several occasions 
imperiled the safety of the nation, she was as lavish to him as 
she was in gratifying her personal extravagance which was 
carried to extremes. It is stated that she left at her death 
"more than 2000 gowns with all things answerable." ^ 

Nothing could excel the costliness of her wardrobe, many 
of her dresses being adorned with pearls and other gems. To 
her most loyal subjects, — and we may mention as conspicu- 
ous examples Burghley and Drake, — she showed little gen- 
erosity, and many of them, by their costly gifts to her, which 

* Froude, vol. vii, p. 316. ^ Ihid.y p. 320. 
^ MSS. Simancas; Froude, vol. vii, p. 414. 

* Sir John Harrington, Kt., Nuga Antiquce, vol. i, p. 119. London, 
1804. 

9 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

to hold her favor they feh obHged to bestow, and by their 
expenditures in her service which she never troubled herself 
to reimburse, were brought to poverty. 

Her parsimony, perhaps, may be accounted for partly by 
the fact that when she assumed rule the nation was in dire 
poverty, and only by the supreme efforts of Burghley was it 
saved from bankruptcy. Doubtless he deeply impressed upon 
the young Queen, who had lived a straitened life, the necessity 
of economy, a virtue which she had hitherto been obliged to 
practice herself, and now found it easy to practice upon others, 
while, prompted by inordinate selfishness, she indulged to the 
limit her passion for luxury and display. On Dudley, however, 
in spite of acts which bitterly angered her, she heaped favors 
until his death in 1588 when on his way from camp after the 
defeat of the Armada. 

Says Lingard, "Only the week before his death he prevailed 
on her to promise him a much larger share of the royal author- 
ity than had ever, in such circumstances, been conferred on a 
subject," and "If tears are a proof of affection, those shed by 
the Queen on this occasion showed that hers was seated deeply 
in the heart." ^ 

To recur to the belief in their sexual relations: In 1560, 
Anna Dowe, of Brentford, was the first of a long line of 
offenders to be sent to prison for asserting that Elizabeth was 
with child by Dudley; in 1563, Robert Brooke, of Devizes, 
was punished for a like offense; and in 1570, Marsham, a 
Norfolk gentleman, lost his ears for saying that "My Lord of 
Leicester had two children by the Queen." 

As only occasional cases got recorded, it is apparent that 
they continued for a period of at least ten years. In 1571, 
twelve years after her accession, Parliament was invoked to 
make it a penal offense to speak of any other successor to the 
Crown of England than the natural issue of the Queen. The 
popular feeling with regard to Elizabeth's connection with 

^ Lingard, vol. vi, p. 516 et seq. 
10 



THE SETTING OF THE STAGE 

Leicester on that occasion is well expressed by Camden. He 
says, "I myself . . . have heard some oftentimes say, that 
the word was inserted into the Act of purpose by Leicester, 
that it might one day obtrude upon the English some Bastard 
son of his for the Queen's natural issue." ^ 

It was contended that the term "natural" distinctly meant 
a birth out of wedlock, and that "lawful" was the only proper 
term to have been used. 

There is much more upon this subject which shows beyond 
doubt the relations of Elizabeth and Dudley; indeed, they 
were quite fully set forth in a book by John Barclay, published 
in Latin in 1621, entitled the "Argenis," to which attention 
will be given hereafter, when our object in treating particu- 
larly of these relations will appear. 

Though the Queen was known to be a lover of letters, espe- 
cially of poetry and the drama, a large portion of her subjects 
were incapable of sympathizing with her in this regard. 
Opposition to the theater was especially active, and players 
were held in disrepute. This feeling became so strong that 
in 1575 they were banished from London proper and obliged 
to set up their stage in the suburbs. A fierce controversy 
respecting the dangerous influence of dramatic exhibitions 
upon public morals followed, and when Philip Stubbes's 
denunciation of "Stage Plays and their Evils" was published, 
it broke out afresh, and engaging the attention of Sergeant- 
at-Law Fleetwood, who was then active in ferreting out 
Popish plots, for which service he earned the honor he coveted 
of being made Sergeant to the Queen, he turned his attention 
to the players, and was soon able to write to Burghley as 
follows : — 

By searche I do perceive that there is no one thing of late more 
lyke to have renewed this contagion of treason then the prac- 
tice of an idle sorte of people which have been infamous in all 
good common-weales, I mean those histriones, common players, 

* William Camden, Elizabeth, p. 167. 
II 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

who now daylie but speciallye on holydayes, set up boothes 
whereunto the youthe resorteth excessively, and there taketh 
infection.-' 

In 1583, it was thought best still further to tighten the 
screws. Archbishop Grindal, who was supposed to have too 
tender a heart, and had been sequestered from his archi- 
episcopal functions, died, and his successor, who had already 
displayed his harsh spirit, was at once empowered by the 
Queen to send inquisitors throughout the country in imita- 
tion of her Spanish neighbors, "To visit and reform all errors, 
heresies, schisms, in a word, to regulate all opinion," and to 
use all "Means and ways which they could devise; that is, by 
the rack, by torture, by inquisition, by imprisonment." To 
achieve their purpose, they could go to any person and 
"Administer to him an oath called 'ex officio J by which he 
was bound to answer all questions, and might thereby be 
obliged to accuse himself or his most intimate friend."^ 
Verily it was an age in which social vice and theological piety 
were bedfellows. This oath was intended to strike terror into 
the hearts of all whose opinions were not strictly in accord- 
ance with those of their rulers. Players, Roman Catholics, 
and supposed practicers of magic art, felt the first force of 
the storm. The following letter from the Bishop of London 
to Secretary Cecil shows the measures taken against the 
theaters : — 

Upon Sondaie, my Lord sent two aldermen to the court for 
the suppressing and pulling downe of the theartre and curten, 
for all the Lords agreed thereunto save my Lord Chamberlayn 
and Mr. Vice-Chamberlayn; but we obtayned a letter to suppress 
them all.^ 

To carry out the measures adopted against Papists and 
those suspected of witchcraft, officers, denominated "witch- 

* Thomas Wright, M.A., F.S.A., Queen Elizabeth and Her Times, vol. i, 
p. 166 et seq. London, 1838. 

2 David Hume, The History of England, vol. vi, pp. 152-54. London, 1803. 
^ Thomas Wright, ibid., vol. 11, p. 228. 

12 



THE SETTING OF THE STAGE 

finders," were employed to go about the country to find sus- 
pects. Witnesses, either to ingratiate themselves with the 
officers or to pay off grudges against neighbors or for pecu- 
niary profit, were ever at hand to aid these villains, many of 
whom were of the vilest character, and hundreds of innocent 
people were cruelly tortured and executed upon the flimsiest 
pretext; many for only having moles and other blemishes 
upon their persons. The portrait of Matthew Hopkins, 
" Witchfinder General," is still preserved at Magdalen College. 
So prevalent was the belief in witchcraft that in a sermon 
before the Queen Bishop Jewel used these words: — 

It may please Your Grace to understand that witches, sorcer- 
ers, within these last few years are marvelously increased v^^^ithin 
Your Grace's realm. Your Grace's subjects pine away even unto 
death. Their colour fadeth, their flesh rotteth, their speech is 
benumbed, their senses are bereft. I pray God they never prac- 
tise further than upon the Subject.^ 

Nothing better could have been devised to inflame the 
public mind, and the fever continued throughout the reign of 
Elizabeth and her successor, the "English Solomon," who 
wrote a book in support of the belief in witchcraft. 

The Roman Catholics fared as hardly. Camden, writing of 
the distrust of their loyalty in 1584, gives us a description of 
the methods employed to ferret them out. He says: — 

Counterfeit letters were privily sent in the name of the Queen 
of Scots and the Fugitives, and left in Papists' Houses; spies were 
sent abroad up and down the Countrey to take notice of People's 
Discourse and lay hold of their words. Reporters of vain and 
idle stories were admitted and credited. Hereupon many were 
brought into Suspicion.^ 

We may well believe that these were among the common 
methods for the suppression of independent thought em- 
ployed during this reign. 

^ John Strype, M.A., Annals of the Reformation, vol. i, p. II. Oxford, 1824. 
^ William Camden, Elizabeth, p. 294. London, 1688. 

13 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

But the current of human progress, though often obstructed 
and turned aside, eventually washes away its barriers and 
pursues its predestined course. A religious faith could not be 
extirpated, nor could the drama be suppressed, for it was too 
deeply rooted in the affections of the people. It was, however, 
into the London already described that William Shakspere 
came after a disreputable life in Stratford and began his 
struggle for existence. 

At this time the popular interest in dramatic exhibitions 
was on the increase, and the writers of the time were attracted 
by the promise which the future offered them in the field of 
histrionic art. The plays then on the stage are fairly well 
described by Sydney: — 

All their plays be neither right tragedies nor right comedies, 
mingling kings and clowns, not because the matter so carrieth, 
but thrust in the clown by head and shoulders to play a part in 
majestical matters, with neither decency nor discretion; so as 
neither the admiration and commiseration, nor the right sport- 
fulness, is by their mongrel tragi-comedy obtained.^ 

Such plays as "King Darius," "Promos and Cassandra," 
"Ferrex and Porrex," and, especially, "A pleasant comedie 
called Common Conditions," delighted the play-goers of the 
early reign of Elizabeth. 

English literature since Chaucer's time had produced no 
great name. Those who could read English or Italian de- 
pended principally upon the foreign romance for their literary 
delectation. Of course the Arthurian romances and many old 
legendary tales had come down from remote times, and were 
read by the few who were proficient in the gentle art ; but the 
masses were debarred from such recreation, being unable to 
read. London, with a population of hardly two hundred thou- 
sand, reeked with filth and disease, as faulty in sanitary con- 
ditions as the worst Oriental city of to-day. Carrion kites 
served to clean the streets ; floors were covered with rushes to 

* The Library of Old English Prose Writers, vol. ii, p. 75. Cambridge, 1812. 

14 



THE SETTING OF THE STAGE 

hide the dirt, but not the smell, so the people carried "cast- 
ing bottles" containing perfumes to make the air endurable. 
Its inhabitants were so vicious and degraded that they 
flocked to witness the brutal executions which were of daily 
occurrence, railing and jeering at the victims, and finding 
delight in sports too cruel for description. The Queen, says 
Goadby, "dispite her culture, used terrible oaths, round and 
full ; she stamped her feet, she thrust about her with a sword, 
she spat upon her attendants, and behaved as the French 
said, like *a lioness.'" ^ 

The theaters were sinks of corruption to which gravitated, 
if we may credit the Mayor of London's report in 1597, 
"thieves, horse stealers, whoremongers, cozeners, coney 
catchers, contrivers of treason, and other idle and dangerous 
persons." ^ The actors were not much above the moral level of 
their patrons, "base and common fellows," according to the 
students of Gray's Inn; and to escape the penalty of the law 
against unlicensed players, which, for the first offense, con- 
demned them to be "grievously whipped and burnte through 
the gristle of the right eare with an hot yron of the compasse 
of an ynch aboute," and for a third offense to suffer death, 
they were obliged to become servants to some one in power, 
under whose name and protection they plied their trade. Of 
course, no respectable woman could enter these "filthie 
haunts," as they were designated by Harvey, in which the 
customs of those frequenting them were unspeakably vulgar 
and obscene ; hence they were the resort of the vilest women 
of the town, which added to their degradation. 

The reign of Elizabeth had passed its meridian when two 
events happened which marked a new epoch in literature. 
The " Euphues," forerunner of the English novel, appeared, 
and a few months later, in 1579, "The Shepherd's Calendar," 
harbinger of an illustrious era of English poetry, dropped 

^ Edwin Goadby, The England of Shakespeare, p. 126. London, 1881. 
2 J. O. Halliwell-Phillipps, Outlines of the Life of Shakespeare, vol. i, p. 214. 
London, 1882. 

IS 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

anonymously into being, as it were from the clouds. These 
two events ushered in the glorious day of England's Renais- 
sance. 

From this date, despite social strife, war and rumors of 
war, the new day advanced in splendor; the gentle Colin 
retuned his oaten pipe, and sang the joy of home-coming; 
"The Faerie Queene," "Venus and Adonis," and "Lucrece" 
thrilled English hearts in hall and palace ; above all, dramatic 
art felt the quickening impulse, and works of a new order, 
many anonymous, and many under the names of hitherto 
unknown men, — Marlowe, dead at twenty-nine in a brawl ; 
Greene, at thirty-two from a debauch; Peele, before forty, 
from an unspeakable disease; and when these had finished 
their course, similar works, bearing the name " Shakespeare," 
imparted new life to the theater. We say similar works, be- 
cause these men to-day lead the van in the history of the 
great literary revival of the sixteenth century, and the works 
accredited to them, some certainly without warrant, are 
marked by the same expressions, display a knowledge of the 
same literary sources, and publish to the world the same lofty 
sentiments; in fact, this has been so fully recognized that 
critics, almost without exception, have declared that they 
collaborated or duplicated the work of one another. That 
they should have done so unconsciously exceeds the limits 
of reason. 

We are confining our view to these men because they ap- 
pear so early in the movement. There were others who fell 
into line during the forty or more years of its especial activity, 
and got their names on the Roll of Remembrance — Dray- 
ton, Nash, Lodge, Dekker, Heywood, Sidney, Massinger, 
Fletcher, Kyd, Webster, Ben Jonson, and others ; some with 
slight reason. 

This, however, is not a history of English literature; that 
has been written more or less acceptably by Hallam, Sy- 
monds, Saintsbury, Lee; and we mention these writers only 

i6 



THE SETTING OF THE STAGE 

in recognition of their place in the literary movement of which 
we have spoken. 

All must agree that it would be interesting to know who 
was really the moving spirit in this great movement. Across 
the Channel it was Ronsard who initiated and directed the 
French Renaissance. In England it has been accredited to 
Spenser, who was a poor exile in Ireland; it is quite evident 
that the men we have named were incapable of doing it. Who 
was the English Ronsard.^ Does he reveal himself in the 
" Shepherd's Calendar" or the "Shakespeare" Works.? These 
are questions which demand consideration, and they find sug- 
gestions to their solution in the criticisms, blind as many of 
them are, with which we have been surfeited. 

In studying the "Shakespeare" Works we cannot fail to be 
impressed with the persistent purpose which they reveal of 
enlarging the scope of human thought, and leading the mind to 
loftier heights of knowledge. Their author reasoned wisely in 
selecting the drama for this purpose, for by it he could appeal 
through ear and eye to the common understanding, and open 
the readiest path to the popular mind, leaving upon it impres- 
sions less easily effaced than those of the novel. The dramas 
and poems which comprise these works were unlike anything 
which had been known heretofore to the English people, being 
saturated with the loftiest sentiments and the acutest phi- 
losophy, as well as the profoundest learning. We may well 
ask. Were these works, which were so far above the intellectual 
capacity of the patrons of the theater, written for mere gain ? 
Halliwell-Phillipps, attributing their authorship to the Strat- 
ford actor, and having an intimate knowledge of his character, 
asserts that his "sole aim was to please an audience, most of 
whom were not only illiterate but unable either to read or 
write"; and Pope crystallizes the same opinion in a verse 
which everybody has read, that he 

For gain, not glory, winged his roving flight, 
And grew immortal in his own dispite. 

17 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

But such an opinion of the author of the "Shakespeare" 
Works involves a paradox. We can conceive of him only as 
one who, conscious of being entrusted with an important mes- 
sage to man, makes its delivery his chief object. It is especially 
with these works that we have to do. 



II 

THE THEME 
THE GREATEST BIRTH OF TIME 

The "Shakespeare" Works have been the admiration of 
lovers of literature for nearly three centuries. No other works 
have attracted to themselves so much conflicting criticism, 
and so much senseless exaggeration. So widely have commen- 
tators differed with regard to them that, if their countervailing 
opinions were eliminated, the residuum would be inconsider- 
able, and were the ravings of delirious devotees gathered into 
a single volume, it would be a curious addition to the library 
of the alienist. We are told that the works were "the Greatest 
Birth of Time"; ^ that their author was "the only Exemplar 
of his Species"; that "there is but one Christ, there has been 
but one Shakespeare"; that "Shakespeare service, if not wor- 
ship, is now acknowledged over the World"; and a quarto of 
bulky proportions has been recently published echoing the 
praises of devotees during the first century of the world's 
knowledge of him, which, if continued to our time, would 
form a library by itself of forbidding magnitude.^ 

Moreover, an immense body of literature has grown up 
treating of every phase of the works in question, which, with 
numerous be-emendated editions, was estimated in 1885 to 
comprise at least ten thousand volumes. Since that time the 

^ The title originated with Bacon, who, as early as 1586, "put together," as 
he says, "A youthful essay — which, with vast confidence, I called by the high- 
sounding title, The Greatest Birth of Time." Dean Church remarks upon this, 
— " In very truth the child was born, and, . . . for forty years grew and 
developed." R. W. Church, Bacon, p. 170. New York, 1884. 

^ C. M. Ingleby, LL.D., Shakespeare's Centurie of Prayse. London, 1879. 
Frederick J. Furnivall, M.A., Some Three Hundred Fresh Allusions to Shake- 
speare. London, 1886. C. M. Ingleby et al., The Shakespeare Allusion Book. 
New York and London, 1909. 

19 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

number has largely increased. Some of these works possess 
elements of real value, but all are more or less misleading. Let 
us briefly quote from several. Their author's knowledge is 
said to have been incomparable, and a volume of nearly five 
hundred pages has been given to the world crowded with 
biblical excerpts which profess to find a parallel in his works. 
Referring to the Stratford actor this author asserts that 

Whatever else the poet had or lacked, he must have brought to 
his work a mind richly stored with the thoughts and words of 
the English Bible. The spontaneous flow of scriptural ideas and 
phrases which are to be found everywhere in the plays, reveals 
the fact most clearly that the mind of Shakespeare must have, 
indeed, been "saturated" with the word of God. 

And, if this knowledge of Scripture was acquired in man- 
hood — 

The presumption would be in favor of Shakespeare's personal 
piety ; if in youth, it would be a strong testimony in favor of the 
religious influences of his home and the training given by his 
parents and schoolmasters.^ 

Some writers carry adulation to much greater extremes. 
Says Downing: — 

I see no sign that the most enlightened religious views of the 
present were any secret to Shakespeare. The position of supreme 
enlightenment, amid the wars, murders, massacres, mutual per- 
secutions, barbarous controversies and jargonings, that then 
devastated the world, in the name of a generally misunderstood 
religion, must have been very moving to the heart of Shakespeare, 
since it was hopeless for him to attempt to breathe one syllable 
of the wisdom that would have redeemed the world from its mad- 
ness and unhappiness. To develope and reconstruct Christianity 
in the light of the Reformation and Renaissance, this about the 
year 1 598, 1 infer from all the evidence, became the great purpose 
and life work of Shakespeare; to be achieved, first, by living the 
developed life himself for our example; secondly, by certain 
symbolical works, namely: — "The Sonnets," already largely 

^ Thomas Carter, Dr. Theol., Shakespeare and Holy Scripture, pp. 3, 4. 
London, 1905. 

20 



THE THEME 

composed and ready to his shaping hand, and those which subse- 
quently took form as "The Tempest," "Winter's Tale," and 
"Cymbeline." These were to veil, till the fulness of time, his 
pregnant ideas of the Development and Reconstruction, together 
with himself as the necessary central figure and Messianic 
Personality of the Scene. ^ 

And again: — 

I will show that the profane Actor was a Holy Prophet. " Nay, 
I say unto thee more than a Prophet," the Messiah. Heine, a 
Hebrew, first spoke of Stratford as the northern Bethlehem ; I 
will show that Heine spoke no more than he knew.^ 

Before leaving this branch of our subject, — his religious 
nature, — it may be well to remark that the author of 
"Shakespeare and Holy Scripture," in which hundreds of 
passages from the "Shakespeare" Works are paralleled by 
passages from the Bible, finds a rival in the author of " Shake- 
speare's Relation to Montaigne," ^ who parallels many of 
the same passages by others in the celebrated Frenchman's 
Essays. We had selected a number of examples of these 
parallels between Shakspere and Holy Scripture with cor- 
responding ones from Montaigne, in order to show to what 
extremes such efforts may be carried ; but, to avoid prolixity, 
omit them. 

The author of the "Shakespeare" Works, we are told, was 
a great lawyer. Says Lord Campbell: — 

Having concluded my examination of Shakespeare's juridical 
phrases and forensic allusions, on the retrospect, I am amazed 
not only by their number, but by the accuracy and propriety 
with which they are uniformly introduced. There is nothing so 

^ Charles Downing, The Messiahship of Shakespeare, pp. ii, 104, 113. 
London, 1900. Cf. Rev. Dr. Scadding, Shakespeare the Seer — The Interpreter, 
etc., p. S3 et seq. Toronto, 1864. 

2 Clelia, God in Shakespeare, p. 15. London, 1890. 

3 Charles H. Grandgent, The Relation of Shakespeare to Montaigne. Balti- 
more, 1902. Cf. The Long Disiderated Knowledge, etc., of Shakespeare, ibid. 
London, n. d. 

21 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

dangerous as for one not of the craft to tamper with our free- 
masonry.^ 

And Judge Wilde, one of the first of English jurists : — 

The writer of the Shakespeare plays possessed a perfect famil- 
iarity with not only the principles, axioms, and maxims, but the 
technicalities of English law, a knowledge so perfect and intimate 
that he was never incorrect and never at fault.^ 

And Richard Grant White declares: — 

No dramatist of the time, not even Beaumont, who was the 
younger son of a judge of the Common Pleas, and who, after 
studying in the Inns of Court, abandoned law for the drama, used 
legal phrases with Shakespeare's readiness and exactness — legal 
phrases flow from his pen as part of his vocabulary, and parcel of 
his thought.^ 

So impressed was Malone with this, and with the impossi- 
bility of reconciling such knowledge with the known literary 
equipment of the actor, that he ventured upon the absurdity 
of guessing that before leaving Stratford he had studied law 
in company with Francis Collins who subsequently made his 
will.^ 

The knowledge of legal terms, and the apt way in which 
they are applied in the Works are, indeed, remarkable. The 
following are but few of the instances : — 

Double Vouchers, Fee, Entail, ^Edificium, Credit sole, Rever- 
sion, Enfeoffed, Fine and Recovery, In capite. Deed of Gift, 
Conveyance, Mortgage and Lease, Succession, Uses and Trusts, 
Covenants, Tripartite Indentures, Recognizances, Forfeiture, 
Statutes, Bonds, Absque hoc. Acquittance, Jointure, Indictment, 
Arraignment, Accessory, Bail, To Enlarge, The Form of Oath, 

* John Lord Campbell, Shakespeare^ s Legal Acquirements, etc., p. 127. Lon- 
don, 1859. 

2 Rt. Hon. Sir James Plaisted Wilde, Baron Penzance, A Judicial Summing 
Up, p. 83. London, 1902. 

^ Richard Grant White, The Works of William Shakespeare, pp. xlv, xlvii. 
Boston, 1865. 

* Edmund Malone, Esq., The Plays and Poems of William Shakespeare, vol. 
II, p. 108. London, 1821. 

22 



THE THEME 

Appeal, Nonsuit, Defender, Libel, Precedent, Repeal, Impanelled 
Quest, Tenants, etc., etc. 

Reversion : — 

As were our England in reversion his. 

Richard 11, i, 4. 

Enfeoffed : — 

Enfeoff'd himselfe to Popularitie. 

Henry IF, in, 2. 

Incapite: — 

Men shall hold of me in capite. 

Henry V, iv, 7. 

Extent: — 

Make an extent upon his house and land. 

As You Like It, iii, i. 

Lease and Determination: — 

So should that beauty which you hold in lease 
Find no determination. 

Sonnet xiii. 

In Use, Trust: — 

The other half in use to render it 
Upon his death unto this gentleman. 

Merchant of Venice, iv, i. 

Succession — Intestate : — 

Airy succeeders to intestate joys. 

Richard III, iv, 4. 

Indentures tripartite : — 

Indentures tripartite — sealed interchangeably. 

Henry IV, in, i. 

Specialties and Covenants : — 

Let specialties be therefore drawn between us 
That covenants may be kept on either hand. 

Taming of the Shrew, 11, i. 

Serving Precepts : — 

Those precepts cannot be served. 

Henry IV, v, i. 

23 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Campbell quotes the following from "King Lear" to show 

in what a technical manner legal phraseology is employed in 

the plays : — 

And of my land 

Loyal and natural boy, I'll work the means 

To make thee capable. 

He also calls attention to an ancient custom, mentioned in 
"The Winter's Tale," which he thinks was known only to 
members of the legal profession, of prisoners paying fees upon 
being discharged from custody.^ The quotation is as follows : — 

Force me to keep you as a prisoner so you shall pay your fees 
When you depart, etc. 

And to the technical expression of commitment to prison : — 

I'll lay ye all 

By the heels suddenly. 

Henry Fill, v, 4. 

These are but a few examples of the knowledge of legal 
procedure, and the technical phraseology employed by men 
learned in the practice of law, which are to be found in the 
plays. 

We are also told that the author of the plays, by whom is 
meant the actor, devoted himself to the study of medicines, 
that "his maladies are many, and the symptoms very well 
defined. Diseases of the nervous system seem to have been 
a favorite study, especially insanity";^ and "We confess, 
almost with shame, that although near two centuries and a 
half have passed since Shakespeare thus wrote, we have very 
little to add to his method of treating the insane" f moreover, 
he "paid more attention to the practice of medicine than to 

^ Lord John Campbell, Legal Acquirements, etc., p. 127. 

2 B. Rush Field, M.D., Medical Thoughts of Shakespeare, pp. 10, 13, 49, 59, 
86. Easton, Pa., 1885. 

^ A. O. Kellogg, M.D., Shakespeare's Delineations of Insanity, Imbecility, 
and Suicide, p. 3. New York, 1856. Cf. DArcy Power, F.S.A., William Harvey, 
etc. New York, 1897. John Redman Coxe, M.D., An Inquiry into the Claims 
of, etc. Philadelphia, 1834. 

24 



THE THEME 

surgery"; and the reason given for this is that in his time 
*' surgery had not reached its present perfection," but that 
"a more probable reason may have been that his son-in-law, 
Dr. John Hall, from whom it is said he probably received his 
medical education, may not have been a surgeon." 

Perhaps it is well to note that Dr. Hall did not become the 
actor's son-in-law until 1607, after the plays noted were writ- 
ten, especially "Hamlet," in which this knowledge is conspicu- 
ously displayed, and that, as he was but thirty-one at this 
time, he could have been but eleven years old at most when 
his future father-in-law left Stratford for London, where his 
biographers claimed he lived until after his daughter's mar- 
riage. 

It is true that the author of the "Shakespeare" Works was 
versed surprisingly well in the science of disease; indeed, he 
exhibits at times a knowledge of diseases and their treatment 
possessed only by the best medical students of his day. Nor is 
this knowledge comprised within narrow limits, but embraces 
the nervous, circulatory, respiratory, digestive, and secretory 
systems; of fevers, of the action of medicine, of surgery, 
fecundation, pregnancy, and even of the circulation of the 
blood. 

He puts these words into the mouth of one of his charac- 
ters : — 

Tis knowne I ever have studied Physicke; ^ 

Through which secret Art, by turning ore Authorities, 

I have togeather with my practice, made famyUar, 

To me and to my ayde, the best infusions that dwels 

In Vegetives, in Mettals, Stones; and can speak of 

Disturbances that Nature works, and of her cures; 

Which doth give me more content in course of true deUght 

Then to be thirsty after tottering honour, or 

Tie my pleasure up in silken Bagges 

To please the Foole and death. 

Pericles, iii, 2. 

^ This is suggestive of the same remark by Bacon, "I have been puddering 
with physic all my life." 

25 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

An Opiate: — 

There is 
No danger in what shew of death it makes, 
More than the locking up the Spirits a time, 
To be more fresh, reviving. 

Cymbeline, /, 6. 

Value of Sleep: — 

Our fo6ter Nurse of Nature, is repose. 
The which he lacks; that to provoke in him 
Are many Simples operative, whose power 
Will close the eye of Anguish. 

Lear, iv, 4. 

I ago. My Lord is falne into an Epilepsie 

This is his second Fit; he had one yesterday. 
Cas. Rub him about the Temples. 
lago. The Lethargic must have his quyet course. 

Othello J IV, I. 

Sciatica: — 

Thou cold Sciatica 
Cripple our Senators, that their limbes may halt 
As lamely as their Manners. 

Tiinon of Athens, iv, i. 

Tremor Cordis : — 

I have Tremor Cordis on me; my heart daunces. 

The Winter^s Tale, i, 2. 

Pleurisy: — 

For goodnes, growing to a plurisie, 
Dies in his owne too-much. 

Hamlet, iv, 7. 

Leprosy : — 

Gold! Yellow, glittering, precious Gold? 

This yellow Slave, 

Will icnit and breake Religions, blesse th' accurst 

Make the hoare Leprosie ador'd. 

Timon oj Athens, iv, 3. 

Ague : — 

Home without Bootes 
And in foule Weather too, How scapes he Agues .? 

Henry IF, in, i. 
26 



THE THEME 

Rheumatism: — 

Rheumatick diseases doe abound 
And through this distemperature, we see 
The seasons alter. 

A Midsummer Night's Dream, ii, i. 

Insanity: — 

And he repulsed. A Short Tale to make 
Fell into a Sadnesse: then into a Fast 
Thence to a Watch, thence into a Weaknesse, 
Thence to a Lightnesse, and by this declension 
Into the Madnesse whereon now he raves. 

Hamlet, ii, 2. 

Apoplexy : — 

Peace is a very Apoplexy, Lethargic, mulled, deafe, sleepe, insensible. 

Coriolanus, iv, 5. 

Consumption : — 

Consumptions sowe 
In hollow bones of man, strike their sharpe shinnes, 
And marre mens spurring. 

Timon of Athens, i v, 3 . 

Drugs: — 

I have bought 
The Oyle, the Balsamum, and Aqua-vitae. 

Comedy of Errors, iv, i. 

It is a significant fact that several of the plays reflect 
Harvey's theory of the circulation of the blood, which was not 
given to the world until 1628, twelve years after the death of 
the actor. The following excerpts support the theory that the 
author of the plays had a preexistent knowledge of Harvey's 
theory: — 

My heart 
The Fountaine from which my currant runnes 
Or else dries up. 

Othello, IV, 2. 

Your pulsidge beats as extraordinarily as heart would desire. 

Henry IV, Part II, 11, 4. 
27 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

I send it through the Rivers of your Blood 
Even to the Court, the Heart, to th' seate o' th' Braine, 
And through the Crankes (windings) and Offices of man 
The strongest Nerves, and small inferiour Veines 
From me receive that naturall competencie 
Whereby they live. 

Coriolanus, i, i. 

It is proper to remark that Bacon was a friend of Harvey, 
and often must have discussed with him his then novel theory. 
On one occasion the doctor paid the philosopher the witty 
compliment that he "wrote philosophy like a Lord Chan- 
cellor." The amusing old gossip, Aubrey, imagined that the 
remark was intended to be derisive, missing the better mean- 
ing that a Lord Chancellor stood for the highest authority. 

The scientific knowledge possessed by the author of the 
"Shakespeare" Works, especially of natural history, has been 
commented upon, and a large volume has been published with 
a reprint of portions of works on natural history of his time. 
We are informed in the preface that "The plan of the book is 
to give some illustration of each word mentioned by Shak- 
spere, when there is nothing remarkable to be noted about it. 
The term 'natural history' has been taken in its widest sense, 
as including not only fauna but flora, as well as some precious 
stones." ^ The perusal of this book shows us how intimate a 
knowledge of the natural history of his age was possessed by 
the author of the "Shakespeare" Works, but no more so than 
the works themselves, and adds too little to our knowledge to 
require extended comment. 

His knowledge of gardens and plants was wide, and a book 
of nearly four hundred pages embellished with a frontispiece 
of an ideal "New Place," and sumptuous garden, which in the 
actor's day would have set Stratford wild, has already passed 
through three editions. 

The author of this work, introduces his subject to us in his 

^ H. W. Seager, M.B., Natural History in Shakespeare^ s Time, p. 5. London, 
1886. 

28 



THE THEME 

preface, as "A soldier, a sailor, a lawyer, an astronomer, a 
physician, a divine, a printer, an actor, a courtier, a sports- 
man, an angler," and he adds, " I know not what else besides " ; 
and he tells us, too, that "He gathers flowers" for us from the 
"turfy mountains" and the "flat meads"; from the "bosky 
acres" and the "unshrubbed down"; from "rose banks" and 
"hedges even pleached." But he is equally at home in the 
gardens of the country gentlemen with their " pleached bow- 
ers and leafy orchards." Nor is he a stranger to gardens of 
much higher pretension, "for he will pick us famous Straw- 
berries from the garden of my Lord of Elgin in Holborn ; he 
will pick us White and Red roses from the garden of the 
Temple ; and he will pick us Apricoks from the Royal garden 
of Richard the Second's sad queen." ^ 

That he was a musical genius and "allied himself to the 
Divine Art," a musical critic declares. "Few of the readers 
of Shakespeare," he says, "are aware of how much of his 
musical material can be traced home; many are unable to fol- 
low some of the poet's most subtle metaphors because they 
are unfamiliar with the musical works to which he refers, or 
with the song or melody which enriches the scene." ^ 

These examples of the marvelous genius of the author of 
the "Shakespeare" Works, perhaps ought to be sufficient, but 
our patience is daily abused by writers perniciously active in 
making discoveries of new ones which they thrust upon us in 
tedious books. As, for instance, we are gravely informed by 
one author that he had a penchant for astronomy ; ^ by another 
that he was accomplished in the art piscatorical;'* and yet 
another presents him to us as an equestrian, "riding along the 

^ Henry N. Ellacombe, M.A., The Plant Lore and Garden Craft of Shake- 
speare, pp. xi, xiv, XV. Cf. Leonard Holmesworthe, William Shakespeare's 
Botanical Knowledge. Leamington Spa, 1906. S. Beisley, Shakespeare's Garden, 
London, 1864. 

^ Louis C. Elson, Shakespeare in Music, p. 354. Boston, 1901. 

^ Thomas Lane, Shakespeare under the Stars, or his Genius and Works in the 
Light of Astronomy. London, 1887. 

* Henry Nicholson Ellacombe, Shakspere as an Angler. London, 1883. 

29 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

narrow lanes/' and having " from his mother (a gentlewoman 
be it remembered by birth and breeding) derived the instincts 
and feelings of a true gentleman, with a taste for art and lit- 
erature which tempered the bold and manly spirit inherited 
from his father."^ Really, we can but wonder that Zincke or 
Holder or some other of the numerous fakers of his "original'* 
portraits did not exhibit him to us on horseback. 

There is no doubt that the author of the "Shakespeare" 
Works was a great poet and a great philosopher; that he 
possessed a mind stored with all the lore of his age, lingual, 
biblical, legal, scientific, historical, medical, and musical ; in- 
deed, that he was in power of expression the greatest literary 
genius that has yet adorned the world of letters ; nor is it an 
idle claim that there was living in London at the time the 
works were written, one man, and one man only, who in a 
large degree exemplified these requirements; a philosopher,^ 
a "concealed poet," to use his own words ; ^ a learned linguist,'* 
Biblical student,^ lawyer,^ scientist,^ historian,^ author of 
treatises on medicine,^ natural history,^" gardens,^^ music.^^ 
This man was Francis Bacon, who took all knowledge for his 
province. Most of the sentiments, however, which we have 
quoted — and we have spared the reader by selecting as few 
as possible to illustrate our subject — would be the grossest 
exaggeration if applied to the greatest genius of any age. 
There is no knowing to what extremes devotees of the 

^ C. E., Shakespeare on Horseback, pp. 3-4. 1887. 

* Novum Organum. Spedding, vol. i, pp. 129-93. 

' Poesy-part of Learning. Spedding, vol. vi, pp. 202-06; vol. viii, pp. 
440-44. 

* De Augmentis. Spedding, vol. ix, pp. 1 12-14; vol. xii, p. 137. 

6 Bacon's Creed and Essay on Unity. Spedding, vol. xiv, pp. 41-57; vol. xii, 
pp. 86-92. 

^ Professional Works. Spedding, vol. xv. 

* De Augmentis Scientiarum. Spedding, vol. 11, p. ill. 

* History of Henry VII. Spedding, vol. xi. 

^ Advancement of Learning. Spedding, vol. vi, pp. 236-54; vol. ix, pp. 23-47. 
" Natural History. Spedding, vol. viii, pp. 409-18; vol. x, pp. 405-18. 
^^ Gardens. Spedding, vol. iv, pp. 354-460. 
^2 Experiments in consort touching music. Spedding, vol. iv, pp. 225-98. 

30 



THE THEME 

Stratfordian cult might have carried their efforts, had not a 
halt been called by Bacon's introduction to them as a claim- 
ant to the authorship of "The Greatest Birth of Time." Not 
only have their unwise panegyrics ceased, but since the light 
has been turned upon the object of their devotion, they have 
bent their efforts to the Sisyphean task of proving that he was 
deficient in the knowledge which they had hitherto ascribed 
to him ; in fact, that it was not the result of study and intel- 
lectual training, but being the common possession of the time 
in which he lived he simply helped himself therefrom. It 
would seem that rightly to avail one's self of such a varied 
store would require not only a mind "saturated" with knowl- 
edge, according to Furnivall, but intellectual training of a 
high degree. Especially do they now disparage the classical 
and legal erudition displayed in the works which they for- 
merly extolled. Doubtless, unprejudiced minds will prefer the 
opinions of Upton, Collins, Baynes, Lord Campbell, Justice 
Wilde, Judge Holmes, and other eminent scholars and ju- 
rists, to those of partisans who have shown themselves to be 
so untrustworthy. Of these we have less hope than of those 
who deck the object of their devotion with meretricious gar- 
lands, though we agree with Tolstoy that their " effort to dis- 
cover in him non-existent merits, thereby destroying aesthetic 
and ethical understandings, is a great evil, as is every untruth."^ 

^ Leo Tolstoy, Shakespeare, p. 6. New York and London, 1906. 



Ill 

THE GHOST OF HAMLET 

WILLIAM SHAKSPERE OF STRATFORD 

"This is a parlous world," says an old thinker, "because 
of its errors," and, unhappily, its errors outnumber its truths. 
Were it not for this, the above title would never have been 
penned, and the world would have been saved from much 
distracting controversy; yet an eminent philosopher tells us 
that there is "A law of compensation universal in its action" ; 
and so even in controversy may we not expect it to serve a 
beneficent end, since many a precious truth has been picked 
out of the sludge of dissent ? 

Whatever the manner in which some have expressed their 
sentiments with regard to the subject we are now to consider, 
we can hardly exaggerate the influence which the works bear- 
ing the name "Shakespeare" have exerted on the English- 
speaking world. Had not the author of these works been 
born, Elizabethan literature would have been a failure; in- 
deed, what the immensity of the loss to the literary world of 
to-day would have been is beyond conjecture; certainly a 
greater loss than if Pisistratus had failed to give the Homeric 
poems to Hellas, important as that act was in quickening the 
national spirit and uniting the Hellenic peoples. No thought- 
ful mind can fail to appreciate the inestimable importance of 
the "Shakespeare" Works to mankind; no heart, which is 
attuned to the love of genius but desires to become acquainted 
with the immortal genius who Was their author. Yet, strange 
as it may seem, the paternity of this " Greatest Birth of Time " 
is in question, and the world is about equally divided upon it ; 
many holding to the earlier faith that it belongs to the Strat- 

32 



THE GHOST OF HAMLET 

ford actor, and others to the later, that it should be ascribed 
to Francis Bacon. This is a question which demands careful 
scrutiny, a mind open to conviction, and, to reach a satis- 
factory conclusion, an intimate acquaintance with the two 
men, and with their works. We must compare their char- 
acters, satisfy ourselves whether both are competent to be the 
author of this prodigy, and whether it reflects the lineaments 
of both or either. To do this we must apply ourselves to the 
history of their lives, and, first, to that of the actor; in his 
case a narrow field which has been ably if unprofitably cul- 
tivated. Rowe, Steevens, Malone, Knight, Symmons, Halli- 
well-Phillipps, White, Lee, and many others whom we shall 
quote in the progress of our study, have labored persistently 
in it, and have produced results in certain respects worthy of 
admiration. For present purposes we will consider the bio- 
graphy by Knight, which forms an entire volume of his volu- 
minous edition of the "Shakespeare" Works, who, to lend 
importance to his subject, which he realizes we know little 
about, devotes ample space at the outset to prove that he was 
of heroic extraction. To do this it seems necessary to connect 
him with some important historic event, and so he selects the 
"22nd of August, 1485," when "There was a battle fought 
for the crown of England. The battlefield was Bosworth." 
He then asks this question : — 

Was there in that victorious army of the Earl of Richmond, 
which Richard denounced as a " company of traitors, thieves, 
outlaws, and runagates," an Englishman bearing the name of 
Chacksper, or Shakespeyre, or Schakespere, or Schakespeire, or 
Schakspere, or Shakespere, or Shaksper, a martial name, how- 
ever spelt.'' 

There certainly ought to have been, but old chronicles, ever 
so diligently searched, fail, alas! to show the name. But it 
ought to have been recorded, and though it was not, the name 
alone should be sufficient to convince the most skeptical of 
John Shakspere's heroic descent. Of course such a man must 

33 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

have a coat of arms, and, referring to the statements made to 
obtain them. Knight exclaims : — 

Let it not be said that these statements were the rodomontades 
of heraldry — honours bestowed for mere mercenary considera- 
tions upon any pretenders to gentle blood. There was strict in- 
quiry if they were unworthily bestowed. Two centuries and a half 
ago such honours were of grave importance, and there is a solem- 
nity of tone in these very documents. 

Having satisfied himself that a coat of arms was really be- 
stowed, he again exclaims : — 

And so forever after he was no more goodman Shakspere, or 
John Shakspere, yeoman, but Master Shakspere.^ 

But we will spare the reader more of these rodomontades. 
Sufficient has been quoted to show with what facility a bio- 
grapher may dispose of important questions of genealogy, 
and confuse readers by a plethora of verbiage. 

The fact is, the first application for arms by John Shakspere 
in 1568-69 was fruitless. In 1596, aided by the actor, another 
application was made, coupled with a request for permission 
to impale the arms of Mary Arden, his wife. In this case a 
false statement of her ancestry was made, and so it was held 
up by the heralds for three years. In 1599, the actor having 
purchased New Place, another application was made request- 
ing the recognition of the coat of arms of 1 596, and the right of 
the grantee to impale, and the other members of his family 
to quarter thereon, the coat of arms of the Ardens of Wilme- 
cote. At this the heralds again balked, realizing that this 
influential family would protest against it; and, finally, an 
Arden family residing in Cheshire was found bearing no rela- 
tion to the Wilmecote Ardens. The remoteness of this family 
rendered interference improbable, but it might prove trouble- 
some, and so the question of an Arden impalement was 
dropped. The request, however, for recognition was granted. 

^ Charles Knight, William Shakspere. A Biography, pp. 3-8, New York, 
i860. 

34 



THE GHOST OF HAMLET 

This irregular procedure aroused criticism, and objections were 
raised against it on the ground of legalizing an infringement, 
but nothing was done, and it was subsequently used by the 
family. This is why it has been claimed that a coat of arms 
to John Shakspere was never legally granted. The proceed- 
ings connected with these transactions are discreditable to 
all concerned.^ 

It is fair to say that nearly every page of Knight's bio- 
graphy of the actor is pleasing fiction ; indeed, Knight himself 
is obliged to admit this, for he says : — 

The two mottoes in the title-page express the principle upon 
which this Biography has been written. That from Steevens 
shows, with a self-evident exaggeration of its author, how scanty 
are the materials for a life of Shakspere properly so called. In- 
deed, every Life of him must, to a certain extent, be conjectural 
and all the Lives that have been written are in great part con- 
jectural. My Biography is only so far more conjectural than any 
other as regards the form which it assumes; by which it has 
been endeavored to associate Shakspere with the circumstances 
around him, in a manner which may fix them in the mind of the 
reader by exciting his interest.^ 

The motto from Steevens is as follows: — 

All that is known with any degree of certainty concerning 
Shakspere is, — that he was born at Stratford-upon-Avon, 
married, and had children there, — went to London, where he 
commenced actor, and wrote poems and plays, — returned to 
Stratford, made his will, died, and was burled. 

This, indeed, is more than is really known of him, yet bio- 
graphies like Knight's have been composed according to this 
formula: given a personality, when born and married, occu- 
pation, if possible, — death can be left out, as it happens to 
all, — fit this personality into the history of a period, and the 
result is, if the composer has artistic skill, a biography quite 

^ Herald and Genealogist, vol. I, p. 510; Miscellanea Genealogica et Heraldica, 
vol. I, p. 109, 1886. 

* Charles Knight, William Shakspere. A Biography. Preface. 

35 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

satisfactory to the general reader, much more so than an 
attempt recently made to deduce from the works the veiled 
life story of their author. 

Judge Holmes must have had such writers as Knight in 
mind when he exclaimed : — 

Does not any man feel an unutterable indignation when he 
discovers (after long years of thought and study, perhaps) that 
he has been all the while misled by false instruction, and that, 
consequently, the primest sources of truth have been left lumber- 
ing his shelves in neglect while he has been put off and befooled 
by paltry child's fables.^ 

Let us, irrespective of the authors we have named, attempt 
a full exposition of everything of an authentic and even tradi- 
tional nature in the life of the Stratford actor, though every- 
thing relating to him has been so often raked over that we 
would be glad to leave this old straw undisturbed were it not 
necessary to the substance of this history. 

At the time of his baptism, April 26, 1564, which following 
the usual custom would be three days after his birth, the little 
town of Stratford had a population of about fourteen hundred. 
The houses, two or three hundred in number, were small, 
rudely built of mud or wood, and roofed with thatch ; even 
the few with a pretense to comfort and distinction would be 
poor enough in our time. These were scattered about with 
little regularity, as such towns were then built, and here and 
there were sluggish ditches and turbid pools, unsuspected 
allies of those mysterious diseases which too often afflicted 
the simple people. Little regard was paid to the condition of 
the streets if we may believe the unvarying annals of English 
towns of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries,^ for John, the 
father of the actor, was indicted in 1552 for maintaining a 
manure heap in the public street. 

^ Nathaniel Holmes, The Authorship of Shakespeare, p. x. New York, 1866. 

2 Stuart A. Moore, Letters of John Shillingford, London, 1871. Cf. Mrs. 
J. R. Green, Town Life in the Fifteenth Century, New York, 1894. Goadby, The 
England of Shakespeare. 

36 



THE GHOST OF HAMLET 

There were in the town a court-leet, a guild and chapel of 
the Holy Cross, with a free school. The most important 
building was the church, and this must have added a note of 
distinction to the place; besides, to give it a homely aspect, 
there were simple gardens about the better houses, and on the 
common land sheep browsed peacefully, and swine scurried 
about the ban-croft, while not far away were outlying fields 
and bosky river banks. It was the home of poor but industri- 
ous folk plying many useful trades, unlettered, of course, as 
but very few were able to read or write. Such was the actor's 
father who plied the petty trade of butcher and skinner, or 
glover, if selling skins made him one. The best thing he did 
was making a good marriage in 1557 with Mary Arden, who 
brought him a jointure of one hundred and ten pounds, thir- 
teen shillings, fourpence, which the poor butcher much needed. 
True, she was illiterate, unable even to write her name, but 
neither could her husband. Much has been written of her 
"gentle birth." Halliwell-Phillipps frankly refutes this view 
and gives a graphic description of the rude surroundings 
of her home deduced from the inventory of her father's estate.^ 
This marriage was of the greatest importance to John Shak- 
spere's future, and gave him distinction among his simple 
neighbors; so that from a juror in the little court-leet,^ he was 
made the year following an ale-taster; in 1558, a burgess; in 
1559, a constable; in 1560, an affeeror; ^ in 1561, a chamber- 
lain; * in 1565, an alderman; and in 1568, a bailiff; ^ but, alas! 
when his son William was thirteen years of age, John Shak- 
spere was in financial straits. For some time he was absent 
from nearly all the meetings of the aldermen, and finally be- 
came so careless of his public duties that he was deposed from 

^ Phillipps, Outlines, etc., vol. i, p. 28. London, 1882. 
2 A recorder's court, held annually before the steward of the leet or 
district. 

^ An affeeror determined fines arbitrarily imposed. 

* A chamberlain was the town treasurer. 

^ A bailiff in this case was the highest of the town officials. 

37 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

office, as appears by the following entry on the Town Rec- 
ords : — 

1586, September 6. At thys halle Will" Smythe and Richard 
Cowrte are chosen to be Aldermen in the place of John Wheeler 
and John Shaxspere for that Mr. Wheeler dothe desyre to be put 
owt of the companye and Mr. Shaxspere dothe not come to the 
Halles when they be warne*^ nor hath not done of longe tyme.^ 

He had been distracted by suits for debt, and, according 
to a writ returned on the 19th of January of the previous year, 
"He had no goods upon which distraint could be made," and 
the issuance of a writ oi habeas corpus, March 29, 1584, reveals 
the fact that he was then in prison. 

Knight and others try to show that the reason for his son's 
withdrawal from school at so early an age was not due to his 
father's poverty, but it seems unnecessary to argue this point. 
It is sufficient for our purpose to know that what little educa- 
tion in the humble school of Stratford John Shakspere's son 
could have obtained, ended in or before 1578. That he at- 
tended school and assisted his father in slaughtering calves is 
supported by reasonable traditions which we cannot ignore, for 
a great deal of history rests upon no securer foundation. These 
traditions, mere hearsay babble if you please of garrulous 
greybeards, probably are true in considerable measure. 

Says John Aubrey, who is supposed to have visited Strat- 
ford in search of literary material about forty-six years after 
Shakspere's death: — 

Mr. William Shakespear was born at Stratford-upon-Avon 
in the county of Warwick. His father was a butcher, and I have 
been told heretofore by some of the neighbours, that when he was 
a boy he exercised his father's trade, but when he kill'd a calfe 
he would do it in a high style, and make a speech. There was at 
that time another butcher's son in this towne that was held not 
at all inferior to him for a natural witt, his acquaintance and 
coetanean, but dyed young. This William being inclined natu- 
rally to poetry and acting, came to London, I guesse, about 18; 

^ Joseph William Gray, Shakespeare'' s Marriage, etc. London, 1905. 

38 



THE GHOST OF HAMLET 

and was an actor at one of the playhouses, and did act exceed- 
ingly well. He was wont to goe to his native countrey once a 
yeare. I thinke I have been told that he left 2 or 300 /. per annum 
there and thereabout to a sister. 

Aubrey has been sharply criticized for looseness of state- 
ment, not always impartially. While he may have been care- 
less in his method of gathering traditions of the Stratford 
actor, he seems to have faithfully recorded them. A good deal 
that he relates was given him by William Castle, the eighty- 
year-old clerk, who showed him the bust of the actor and the 
curious inscription upon his tomb. He had shown them 
scores of times before with all the grave complacency of the 
local antiquary, and much that he told his fellow gossip pos- 
sesses a striking verisimilitude. The story that he and another 
butcher boy when they killed a calf would imitate the players 
who delighted the rustic boydom of Stratford with their mock 
heroics, and mouthed some familiar line, as boys ever have 
done under suggestive circumstances, has a touch of nature. 
How natural, as the knife was raised over the victim, for the 
stage-struck boys to repeat the line that had often thrilled 
them: "Die, wretch, down, down to hell and face thy 
doom!" 

Aubrey says he was told that the actor was " a handsome and 
well shap't man, very good company, and of a very readie and 
pleasant smooth wit," which he illustrates by quoting some 
doggerel said to have been perpetrated at a village tavern. 
He also declares that he had "little Latin and lesse Greek," 
to which others testify, and that he had been in his "younger 
yeares a schoolmaster in the countrey." ^ The statement that 
he had been a schoolmaster, as well as the amount of property 
said to have been left his sister, has been properly enough dis- 
credited. 

The Reverend John Ward, who was Vicar of Stratford-on- 

1 Andrew Clark, M.A., LL.D., Brief Lives, etc., Set down by John Aubrey, 
166^1696, pp. 174, 180, 225-27. Oxford, 1898. 

39 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Avon, in notes in a commonplace book written in 1661-62, 

says : — 

I have heard y* Mr. Shakespear was a natural wit, without any 
art at all; hee frequented y^ plays all his younger time, but in his 
elder days lived at Stratford. Shakespear, Drayton and Ben 
Johnson had a merrle meeting, and itt seems drank too hard, for 
Shakespear died of a feavour there contracted.^ 

The following, written by the Reverend Richard Davies 
at the beginning of the eighteenth century, presents to us the 
future actor as 

Much given to all unluckinesse in stealing venison and Rabbits, 
particularly from Sir Thomas Lucy who had him oft whip't and 
sometimes imprisoned and at last made him fly his native coun- 
try to his great advancem*, but his reveng was so great that he is 
his Justice Clodpate and calls him a great man, and y^ in allusion 
to his name bore three lowses rampant for his arms . . . He dyed 
a papist.^ 

John Dowdall wrote in a letter to Mr. Edward Southwell, 
dated April 10, 1693 : — 

The first remarkable place in this country that I visitted, was 
Stratford-super-Avon, where I saw the efhgies of our English 
tragedian, Mr. Shakspeare: The clarke that shewd me this 
church is above 80 y''" old; he says that this Shakespear was for- 
merly in this Towne bound apprentice to a butcher; but that he 
Run from his master to London & there was Rec"^ into the play 
house as a serviture & by this meanes had an opportunity to be 
w^ he afterwards prov'd. He was the best of his family but the 
male Line is extinguish'd. Not one for feare of the Curse aboves^ 
Dare Touch his Grave Stone tho his wife and Daughters Did 
earnestly Desire to be Layd in the same Grave w*'*' him.^ 

Dowdall's visit to Stratford was very near the time of 
Aubrey's visit, and the clerk who told him about the dead 
actor was William Castle. 

1 Charles Severn, M.D., Diary of Rev. John Ward, A.M. London, 1839. 

^ In notes to the Journal of Rev. Wm. Fulmer, now in Corpus Christi College, 
Oxford. 

' Traditionary Annecdotes of Shakespeare: Collected in 1693, pp. II, 12. 
London, 1838. 

40 



THE GHOST OF HAMLET 

Nicholas Rowe prefaces an edition of the "Shakespeare" 
Works with a Hfe of the Stratford actor; a portion is here 
given : — 

He was the Son of Mr. John Shakespear, and was born at Strat- 
ford-upon-Avon, in Warwickshire, in April, 1564. His father 
who was a considerable dealer in wool, had so large a family, 
ten children in all,^ that tho' he was the eldest son, he could give 
him no better education than his own employment. He had bred 
him, 't is true, for some time at a free-school, where 't is prob- 
able he acquir'd that little Latin he was master of: But the nar- 
rowness of his circumstances, and the want of his assistance at 
home, forc'd his father to withdraw him from thence, and un- 
happily prevented his further proficiency in that language. 

Let us consider the character of this school. Fortunately, 
so many have raked the field to discover relics, however 
minute, of the Stratford actor's life, that we have a pretty ac- 
curate knowledge of what it must have been. The few books 
which it possessed, according to Phillipps, were, "Lilly's 
Grammar and a few classical books," chained to the desks, 
and, like other English schools outside of college towns, it 
could give only the poorest sort of an education. Roger 
Ascham, who described such schools in 1571, says that the 
teaching in them was "mere babblement and motions." 
Phillipps says, however, that Shakspere "somehow or other 
was taught to read and write, the necessary preliminaries to 
admission into the free school"; but he continues: "There 
were few persons at that time at Stratford-on-Avon, capable 
of initiating him even into these preparatory accomplish- 
ments; as likely as not, the poet received the first rudiments 
of an education from older boys, who were someway ad- 
vanced in their school career." ^ Churton Collins attempts 
by giving us a glimpse of important schools, of which there 
were a few, a very few, in England in the sixteenth century, 
to make it appear that the Stratford school was like these. 
This is wholly misleading as all the best authorities prove. 

^ There were but eight, 2 Phillipps, Outlines, etc., vol. i, p. 38. 

41 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

The influence of a school estabHshed for a generation or two 
would naturally be reflected by the community about it, and 
judged by this rule, the Stratford school was such as Ascham 
described, for it has been estimated that not over fifty per- 
sons in the town in Shakspere's time could read or write, and 
when it became necessary for the aldermen and most influ- 
ential burgesses to complete an important public document, 
but six out of nineteen could sign their names to it ; the other 
thirteen afiixed to it their rude marks. This ceases to be re- 
markable when we learn from Phillipps, whose authority in 
everything relating to Shaksperiana is acknowledged, that 
he places the number of books in the town, "exclusive of 
Bibles, church services, psalters, and educational manuals, at 
no more than two or three dozen, if so many," ^ and Richard 
Grant White thinks this estimate excessive. CoUins's attempt 
to break the force of the testimony of his abler predecessors 
is a conspicuous failure. 

The actor himself did not own a single book when he died, 
if we may accept the evidence of his will in which everything 
of value seems to have been mentioned. As books were rare, 
and especially valuable,, they were among the proudest pos- 
sessions of a testator, and the absence of reference to them in 
an itemized will sufficiently indicates that he did not own any. 

To continue Rowe's account : — 

Upon leaving school he seems to have given intirely into that 
way of living which his father propos'd to him; and in order to 
settle in the world after a family manner, he thought fit to marry 
while he was yet very young. His wife was the daughter of one 
Hathaway, said to have been a substantial yeoman in the neigh- 
borhood of Stratford. In this kind of settlement he continu'd for 
some time, 'till an extravagance that he was guihy of, forc'd 
him both out of this country and that way of living which he had 
taken up : — He had, by a misfortune common enough to young 
fellows, fallen into ill company ; and amongst them some that made 
a frequent practice of deer-stealing, engag'd him with them more 
than once in robbing a park that belong'd to Sir Thomas Lucy of 
^ Phillipps, Outlines, etc., vol. i, p. 55. 
42 



THE GHOST OF HAMLET 

Charlecot near Stratford. For this he was prosecuted by that 
gentleman, as he thought somewhat too severely; and in order 
to revenge that ill usage he made a ballad upon him. And tho' 
this probably the first essay of his poetry be lost, yet it is said 
to have been so very bitter, that it redoubled the prosecution 
against him to that degree, that he was obliged to leave his busi- 
ness and family in Warwickshire for some time, and shelter him- 
self in London. It is at that time and upon this accident that he 
is said to have made his first acquaintance in the playhouse. He 
was receiv'd into the company then in being, at first in a very 
mean rank; but his admirable wit, and the natural turn of it to 
the stage, soon distinguish'd him, if not as an extraordinary 
actor, yet as an excellent writer. His name is printed, as the 
custom was in those times, amongst those of the players, before 
some old plays, but without any particular account of what sort 
of parts he used to play; and though I have enquired, I could 
never meet with any further account of him this way, than that 
the top of his performance was the Ghost in his own Hamlet.^ 

This testimony to Shakspere's inferiority in histrionic 
ability is further illustrated by Oldys, who, curious as others 
have been to learn something of the ability of Shakspere as 
an actor, interviewed his aged brother to learn in what parts 
he had seen him perform. Though he had often attended the 
theater to which his prosperous relative belonged, the only 
part the old man remembered to have seen his brother im- 
personate was that of "a decrepit old man," who, he says, 
"wore a long beard and appeared so weak and drooping that 
he was forced to be supported and carried by another person 
to a table at which he was seated among some company and 
one of them sung a song." Malone says of this story that 
it "came originally from Mr. Thomas Jones, of Tarbeck, 
Worcestershire, who related it, not from one of Shakspere's 
brothers, but of a relative." ^ 

^ "Nicholas Rowe's Life" in Eighteenth Century Essays, etc., by D. Nichol 
Smith, M.A., pp. 1-23. Glasgow, 1903. Cf. Some Account of the Life of William 
Shakespeare, written by Mr. Rowe (Johnson and Steevens), vol. i, pp. 57-132. 
London, 1803. 

^ Edmund Malone, The Plays and Poems of William Shakespeare, vol. 11, 
p. 286. London, 1821. Cf. Diary of Rev. John Ward. 

43 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

These statements of Rowe and Oldys would seem to indi- 
cate the range of Shakspere's histrionic talents, and prob- 
ably account for such remarks as that of the Vicar of Stratford, 
that his townsman was possessed of " a natural wit without 
any art at all." 

Apologists have endeavored to prove that the deer-stealing 
episode was a tradition unworthy of credence, or, if true, was 
but an exuberance of youthful spirits; yet the actor was a 
married man with a family, and cannot be excused, as Phil- 
lipps and others have done, by citing similar escapades by 
college students. If the story is true, the labored arguments 
to prove that to steal or kill deer on a private estate could not 
be legally punished are too weak for consideration. 

As so much has been said about the discovery and printing 
by Capell and Oldys of the scurrilous verse of the "Ballad," 
called by Rowe "very bitter," it may be proper to give it a 
passing glance, though it may not be genuine, for similar 
verses subsequently found in good Dame Tyler's chest of 
drawers are without doubt apocryphal. This wretched dog- 
gerel, if he composed it, reflects no credit upon the actor, and 
it seems questionable judgment for his admirers to quote it 
as an example of wit and ability to versify. It is claimed that 
the "Venus and Adonis" was written about the same time. 

A parliamente member, a justice of peace, 

At home a poor scare crow, at London an asse; 

If lowsie is Lucy, as some volke miscalle it, 

Then Lucy is lowsie, whatever befalle it; 

He thinkes himself greate, yet an asse is his state, 

If Lucy is lowsie, as some volke miscalle it, 

Sing lowsie is Lucy, whatever befalle it.^ 

So much has been said about the actor's wit that we may 
well quote Thomas Fuller, in whose "Worthies," published 
forty-six years after the actor's death, is this : — 

Many were the wit-comhates betwixt him and Ben Jonson, 
which two I behold like a Spanish great Gallion, and an English 

^ Severn, Diary of Rev. John Ward. London, 1839. 

44 



THE GHOST OF HAMLET 

man-of-War, Master Jonson (like the former) was built far 
higher in Learning; Solid but slow of performances,^ 

Fuller long held a high seat in the Stratford biographical 
arena, but what he wrote was pure imagination, an elabora- 
tion of Castle's familiar prattle, which is the source of all the 
traditionary lore relating to the actor that we have quoted, and 
which, with much repetition, can hardly have suffered loss of 
pristine color. Fuller never saw the actor, having been born 
after he left London, and was but eight years old when he 
died. Writers have enlarged, however, upon this scene, as 
they have upon the tavern scene in which the actor is said to 
have helped his friends, Jonson and Combe, construct their 
epitaphs, thereby exalting traditional anecdotes of a coarse 
and commonplace nature into illustrations of that wit which 
irradiates the immortal dramas; such attempts can but indi- 
cate a faulty literary perspective. 

Before leaving these local traditions behind, it seems neces- 
sary to mention Shakspere's crab tree, which was formerly 
pointed out to Stratford pilgrims, who were told that in the 
actor's time there was a rivalry between his native town and 
the adjoining one of Bidford, in both of which were a number 
of loose livers, some of whom, known as the Bidford topers, 
challenged those of Stratford to a drinking-match to deter- 
mine which excelled in bibacious ability. Bidford won, and 
Shakspere, who was one of the Stratford topers, being unable 
to get farther on his way home than the famous crab tree, 
spent the night under its sheltering branches to sleep off the 
effect of his debauch. 

Victor Hugo, in an essay on the actor, thus comments upon 
this episode, "Shakespeare, the drunken savage! savage, yes, 
but the inhabitant of the virgin forest, drunken, indeed, but 

^ Thomas Fuller, D.D., The History of the Worthies of England, p. 126. 
London, 1662. Editors of the Worthies have taken unwarranted liberties with 
the text. The above is from the original edition. It has been made to appear 
that Fuller said that he had beheld these wit-combats. 

45 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

with the ideal." Even to-day a school of critics are asserting 
with Hugo, against the experience of mankind, that debauch- 
ery and genius are not incompatible yoke-fellows. 

A few words about Shakspere's marriage. Under date of 
November 27, 1582, appears a license of marriage between 
"William Shaxpere and Anne Wateley, of Temple Grafton," 
and on the next day, November 28, a similar license to "Wil- 
liam Shagspere and Anne Hathway, of Stratford-on-Avon." ^ 
Ithasbeen contended that the butcher's apprentice had taken 
out a license to marry Anne Whateley, and the fact being 
found out by the friends of Anne Hathaway, they forced him 
to take out another license to marry her. There are difficul- 
ties surrounding this mysterious affair which have never been, 
and probably never can be, cleared up. It has been contended 
that there were two William Shaksperes, for there were sev- 
eral in Warwickshire, and two marriages, but this theory is 
not borne out by the registers. The most plausible theory is, 
perhaps, that in the first instance an error was made in the 
name of "Wateley" and that "Hathway" was intended; yet 
the fact that here we are faced by the place of residence of 
"Wateley," namely, "Temple Grafton," ought to dispose of 
this theory. But to exonerate the actor it is unnecessary to 
impose upon our credulity the impossible coincidence that 
there were two persons of the same name, at practically the 
same time, seeking marriage under the authority of the same 
bishop, for the bond entered into by the friends of Anne 
Hathaway specifies that it is given to indemnify the bishop 
for liability "by reason of any precontract," evidently refer- 
ring to the Whateley episode. Even were this an error, which 
it is difficult to believe, however expert apologists may be in 
fashioning explanations, the marriage was a most irregular 
affair, and exhibits the future actor in a light far from agree- 
able. To conform to law he should have had the consent of 
his parents, especially as he was a minor, but such consent is 

^ Joseph William Gray, Shakespeare^s Marriage. London, 1905. 

46 



THE GHOST OF HAMLET 

wanting. Archbishop Whitgift, then Bishop of Worcester, in 
whose register the marriage Kcense of Shakspere and Anne 
Hathaway appears, was a stickler for regularity in marriages, 
and two years before had favored the following clause in the 
Lower House of Convocation : — 

That there be no dispensation granted for marriage without 
bans, but under sufficient and large bonds. . . . And, thirdly, 
that they proceed not to the solemnization of the marriage with- 
out the consent of parents and governors. 

This clause did not then obtain the approval of Elizabeth, 
but, on the Archbishop's translation to Canterbury in 1583, 
he procured the Queen's sanction to it, which removed all 
question respecting its importance. The marriage bond bore 
the name of John Richardson and Fulk Sandells, friends of 
the bride. It seems strange that the name of neither John 
Shakspere, nor any of the friends of his son were placed upon 
the bond. Either he had no responsible friends, or, if he had, 
they declined the risk of backing him ; for any young man with 
a modicum of self-respect would have taken pride in securing 
responsible bondsmen among his relatives or friends. It has 
been argued that his father did not sign his bond because he 
had secreted property and feared inquiry, and also that he 
did not want to take the risk of a suit for damages which 
might have been brought against him for his son's breach of 
the law of apprenticeship, and even that he might have given 
verbal consent to the marriage; but these are mere conjec- 
tures. It was usual, though there were sometimes careless 
omissions, to put in the license the occupation of the groom, 
but this does not appear in this case ; in fact, everything shows 
haste and an inexcusable disregard of proprieties. We can 
afford to ignore the "troth plight" fiction, since even Lee has 
curtly dismissed it. 

This marriage could hardly be a happy one. Left by her 
husband for many years after her marriage, Anne Hathaway 
must have passed a none too happy life. Writers have bit- 

47 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

terly criticized him for his treatment of her, and quoted from 
the plays in support of their contention, while others have un- 
reasonably blamed her for the necessity of the marriage, on 
the ground that being older she was more experienced. Her 
tombstone indicates that she died "The 6th day of August, 
1623, being of the age of 6'] yeares." This would make her the 
elder by nearly eight years. 

That he ignored her in his will, and repudiated a small debt 
of forty shillings which she had borrowed of a poor "Sheep- 
herd " of her father, indicates his feelings with regard to her. 
Says Lee : — 

There is a likelihood that the poet's wife fared in the poet's 
absence no better than his father. The only contemporary men- 
tion of her between her marriage in 1582, and her husband's 
death in 1616, is as the borrower, at an unascertained date (evi- 
dently before 1595), of forty shillings from Thomas Whittington, 
who had formerly been her father's shepherd. The money was 
unpaid when Whittington died in i6oi, and he directed his exe- 
cutor to recover the sum from the poet and distribute it among 
the poor of Stratford.^ 

What a refinement of irony was the bequest by the humble 
benefactor of this " poet's " neglected wife to the paupers of 
his native town, and what a quick response it must have 
aroused in that little community. 

Phillipps explains the episode of the second-best bed by 
declaring that she was entitled to dower in his estate, but 
Lee explodes this explanation as follows : — 

The name of Shakespeare's wife was omitted from the original 
draft of the will, but, by an Interlineation In the final draft, she 
received his second-best bed with Its furniture. No other be- 
quest was made her. Several wills of the period have been dis- 
covered In which a bedstead or other article of furniture formed 
part of a wife's Inheritance, but none, except Shakespeare's, is 
forthcoming In which a bed forms the sole bequest. At the same 
time, the precision with which Shakespeare's will accounts for 

^ Sidney Lee, A Life of Shakespeaie, p. 187. 
48 



THE GHOST OF HAMLET 

and assigns to other legatees every known item of his property, 
refutes the conjecture that he had set aside any portion of it 
under a previous settlement of jointure with a view of making 
independent provision for his wife.^ 

In his preface to the "Diary of Rev. John Ward," the 
editor, Severn, gives a fictitious account of the death of the 
actor which doubtless has misled many readers. He says that 
being ill and apprehending his end, he was visited in January 
by Jonson and Drayton; and cheered by their presence he left 
his bed and joined his convivial friends, "his pale face flushed, 
his eyes flashed with the rays of genius, the terrors of death 
are past away, the festive banquet is spread, he is the life of 
the party, etc., etc." He drinks too much and the result is 
stated, — "Wine aided the ravages of this cruel fever — low 
typhoid." Though it is the immediate cause of death, "it 
brings no opprobrium on his venerated memory." He thus 
explains the bequest of the second-best bed to his wife: "The 
first was reserved for the use of Jonson, Southampton, and 
the aristocratic Drayton." ^ Says Lee, " Local tradition subse- 
quently credited her with a wish to be buried in his grave ; and 
her epitaph proves that she inspired her daughters with genu- 
ine affection." ^ 

White is quite as emphatic. In alluding to the disagreeable 
facts in the actor's life, he naively informs us why his bio- 
graphers have acknowledged them, and graphically states the 
case in this wise: "The biographer of Shakespeare must re- 
cord these facts, because the literary antiquaries have un- 
earthed, produced and pitilessly printed them as new partic- 
ulars in the life of Shakespeare. We hunger, and we receive 
these husks ; we open our mouths for food, and we break our 
teeth against these stones." ^ 

* Lee, A Life of Shakespeare, p. 272. 
^ Severn, Diary, etc., pp. 57, 59-69. 

* Lee, A Life of Shakespeare, p. 275. London, 1898. 

* Richard Grant White, The Works of William Shakespeare, vol. i, p. cxxxviii 
Boston, 1865. 

49 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

IN LONDON 

We would like to know the exact date of the future actor's 
flight from Stratford. Phillipps assumes it to have been in 
1586-87, soon after the birth of the twins, and we will adopt 
it as an approximate date, and follow him to London, noting 
that Phillipps depicts him as "trudging thither on foot by- 
way of Oxford and High Wycombe." His life thus far had 
been discreditable. Penniless and uneducated, the outlook 
would have been discouraging to one, the horizon of whose 
life had not been bounded by the most sordid experience ; but, 
knowing what we do of him at this time, we need not doubt 
that he turned his face toward the great city careless of future 
possibilities. There is a tradition that he found employment 
at the stables of the elder Burbage. Phillipps connects this 
employment with the later horse-holding episode thus related 
by Gibber: — 

When he came to London, he was without money and friends, 
and, being a stranger, he knew not to whom to apply, nor by what 
means to support himself. At that time, coaches not being in 
use, and as gentlemen were accustomed to ride to the play- 
house, Shakspear, driven to the last necessity, went to the play- 
house door, and pick'd up a little money by taking care of the 
gentlemen's horses who came to the door. 

And Malone, referring to him at a later period in his ex- 
periences : — 

There is a stage tradition that his first office In the theatre was 
that of Callboy, or prompter's attendant; whose employment it 
Is to give the performers notice to be ready to enter, as often as 
the business of the play requires their appearance on the stage. 

It was not until five years after reaching London that we 
hear of him. On the 3d of March, 1592, according to Phil- 
lipps, the first part of the drama of "Henry VI " was brought 
out by Lord Strange's servants, then acting either at Newing- 
ton or Southwark under an arrangement with Henslowe, a 

SO 



THE GHOST OF HAMLET 

wealthy stage manager, to whom no doubt the play was sold 
by its author. The actor's name was not associated with this 
play, nor was it printed until it appeared in the Folio of 1623. 
His biographers, however, assume the year 1592 as the begin- 
ning of his recognition as an author, and conveniently adopt 
the theory that previous to this date he had been acquiring 
a literary education. Among these. White, who, fully realizing 
that there is no royal road to knowledge, and the necessity 
of providing time for education, adopts the assumption, and 
declares that during this period, "When he was eating the 
bread of poverty, he must have found time to obtain some 
knowledge of books (of which except Bibles and the school- 
house grammar, there were not a dozen in all Stratford, and 
of which he could have learned nothing from his mother, for 
she, like his father, could not write her own name), and then 
to show effectively his powers as a writer." 

It really seems too much to ask us to believe that a man 
past his majority, bred to the rudest of trades, and absolutely 
ignorant of books, who was according to tradition a frequenter 
of taverns, and a participator in drinking-bouts, — far too 
much, indeed, to ask us to conceive that such a man, thrown 
upon his own resources in a city like sixteenth-century Lon- 
don, where he had to struggle for bread or die of starvation, 
would apply himself to the study of literature, law, medicine, 
science, philosophy, languages, even if he had the inclination 
and the time to do so, which this man could not have pos- 
sessed, for it cannot be refuted that during these five years 
he was not only winning a living, but a foothold in the play- 
house, and cultivating that hard business sense which stood 
him in good stead through life. 

Anders, the noted German critic, introduces his work on 
the erudition of the author of the "Shakespeare" Works in 
these words : — 

The immense literature which centers around the name of 
Shakespeare renders a work of the present nature rather trying. 

SI 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

It means tough fighting to grapple with this sea of books which 
threatens to drown all independence of thought, for it has been 
my constant aim not to accept a statement without convincing 
myself of its truth. ^ 

Among the early playhouses the Blackfriars possessed an 
enviable popularity, having on its roll of actors some of the 
best in England, as James and Richard Burbage, John Lane- 
ham, Thomas Green, George Peele, Anthony Wadeson, and 
other public favorites ; several of these were writers and play- 
wrights. Shakspere appears as twelfth on this roll, which is 
indicative of his histrionic status in the company. To ac- 
count for this, age has been assumed to determine rank on 
the stage, but this is easily disproved by a comparison of the 
ages of his associates. 

Phillipps, Lee, and others speak continually of "Shake- 
speare's Company," or "The Poet's Company," by which they 
intend to convey the idea that he was its manager. This is 
quite unwarranted. The Burbages owned the Globe and 
Blackfriars' theaters, and the only allusion to the Stratford 
actor's theatrical interest is found in a petition of the Bur- 
bages to the Earl of Pembroke in the Public Records Office, 
dated August i, 1635. In this petition they state that their 
father was "the first builder of playhowses"; that "he built 
upon leased ground by which meanes the landlord and he had 
a great suite in law; — and by his death the like troubles fell 
on us — his sonnes; wee then bethought us of altering from 
this, and at like expence built the Globe ; and to ourselves we 
joyned those deserveing men, Shakspere, Hemings, Condall, 
Philips and others. Now for the Blackfriars — our father 
purchased it for extreame rates, and made it into a play- 
house — which after was leased to one Evans, that first set 
up boyes commonly called the Queenes Majesties Children of 
the Chappell." They growing up, "It was considered that 

^ H. R. D. Anders, A Dissertation on Shakespeare's Reading and the Im- 
mediate Sources of his Works. Berlin, 1904. 

52 



THE GHOST OF HAMLET 

house would bee as fitt for ourselves, and so purchased the 
lease remaining from Evans — and placed men players, which 
were Hemings, Condall, Shakspeare, &c." ^ This was in 1609, 
long after the actor returned to Stratford. Even Lee says that 
the actor's *' interest in the Blackfriars was unimportant," 
and that the Globe "was not occupied by Shakespeare's com- 
pany until December, 1609, or January, 1610, when his acting 
days were nearing their end." Why not say " Burbage's Com- 
pany," which it was ^ It was never " Shakespeare's Company " 
any more than Heminge's or Kemp's or Condell's, or of any 
one of a dozen others, who shared in the net receipts of the 
house for a limited period, a convenient and safe way of re- 
munerating them. Yet from materials too flimsy to bear the 
breath of criticism, Lee constructs a plethoric balance sheet 
to show the income of his protege from the theater and other 
sources, and ends by informing us that "it is probable" that 
he disposed of his share in 161 1, the year after "his company" 
occupied the theater. What a waste of effort to bolster up a 
baseless theory! It might have been as well to have consulted 
Ratsey, who dubbed the actor "Sir Simon Two Shares and a 
Halfe," which seems suggestive.^ Perhaps it should be added 
that the records, showing the financial profits of the Black- 
friars' and Globe theaters, yield no evidence of the Stratford 
actor's authorship of the plays. The nature of the actor's 
transactions has always been a subject of surprise to students, 
and none of his biographers, however much disposed to cover 
up his deficiencies, has been insensible to it. Mr. Appleton 
Morgan expresses this feeling mildly when he says, "At any 

^ Phillipps, Outlines, etc., vol. i, p. 317. Lee, J Life of Shakespeare, pp. 38, 
264. 

2 In a list, long ago dismissed by his biographers as spurious, his name ap- 
pears as a holder of four shares in the Globe. Some of his devotees are now 
trying to show that it is genuine, as though this were a matter of consequence. 
Heretofore it was the Blackfriars in which he had a pecuniary interest; but 
even Lee has abandoned this, and says {A Life of Shakespeare, p. 196.), "It was 
not until 1599, when the Globe Theater was built, that he acquired any share 
in the profits of a playhouse." 

53 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

rate we do know that the great WiUiam Hved apart from his 
wife, and that such visits as he paid to Stratford may almost 
always be found indicated by an investment, a law suit, or an 
arbitration, whereby the thrifty poet did largely increase the 
body of wealth he left his children." ^ 

A brilliant American author, whose genius could never 
brook the sober pace of a Rosinante, gives rein to his wit in 
this wise: — 

Then, 1610-11, he returned to Stratford and settled down for 
good and all, and busied himself in lending money, trading in 
tithes, trading in land and houses; shirking a debt of forty-one 
shillings, borrowed by his wife during his long desertion of his 
family; suing debtors for shillings and coppers; being sued him- 
self for shillings and coppers; and acting as confederate to a 
neighbor who tried to rob the town of its rights in a certain com- 
mon, and did not succeed. He lived five or six years till 1616 in 
the joy of these elevated pursuits. Then he made a will. It 
names in minute detail every item of property he owned in the 
world, — houses, lands, sword, silver gilt bowl, and so on, — 
all the way down to his second-best bed and its furniture. It 
was eminently and conspicuously a business man's will, not a 
poet's.^ 

Richard Grant White thus alludes to this subject: — 

The pursuit of an impoverished man for the sake of impris- 
oning him and depriving him both of the power of paying his 
debts and supporting himself and his family, is an incident in 
Shakespeare's life which it requires the utmost allowance and 
consideration for the practice of the time and country to enable 
us to contemplate with equanimity — satisfaction is impossi- 
ble.3 

Of several episodes in his London life it was not intended to 
speak, but since his recent biographer, Sidney Lee, has done 
so, it seems necessary to quote him verbatim. The first is this : — 

^ Appleton Morgan, A.M., LL.B., Shakespeare in Fact and in Criticism, 
p. 277. New York, 1888. 

2 Mark Twain, Is Shakespeare Dead? New York and London, 1909. 
' Richard Grant White, The Works of Shakespeare, vol. i, p, Ixxxviii. 

54 



THE GHOST OF HAMLET 

Burbage, when playing Richard III, made an assignation 
with a lady in the audience to visit her after the performances; 
Shakespeare, overhearing the conversation, anticipated Burbage, 
and met him on his arrival with the quip that "William the 
Conqueror was before Richard the Third." ^ . . . 

Another story in the same key, credits Shakespeare with the 
paternity of Sir William D'Avenant.^ He was baptized at Ox- 
ford on March 3, 1605, as the son of John Davenant, the land- 
lord of the Crown Inn, where Shakespeare lodged on his journies 
to and from Stratford. The story of Shakespeare's paternal re- 
lation to the boy was long current in Oxford, and was at times 
complacently accepted by the reputed son. It is safer to accept 
the less compromising version which makes Shakespeare the god- 
father of the boy William, instead of his father. But the anti- 
quity and persistence of the scandal belie the assumption that 
Shakespeare was known to his contemporaries as a man of 
scrupulous virtue.^ 

Yet another story, by Lee, represents him as transferring 
one of his mistresses to Southampton. We will, however, only 
quote Lee's reflection on the transaction: "Southampton's 
sportive and lascivious temperament might easily impel him 
to divert to himself the attentions of an attractive woman by 
whom he saw that his poet was fascinated, and he was unlikely 
to tolerate any outspoken protest on the part of his protege " : 
an admission which shows an intimate knowledge of the rela- 
tions existing in Tudor times between dissolute aristocrats 
and plebeians.^ 

Somewhat recently two discoveries relating to the actor 
have been claimed by Stratfordians, and adopted by his dis- 
ciples. The first, based upon a statement by Sir John Harring- 
ton, is to the effect that up to 1599 he carried on an extensive 
gambling business. The other story relates to one of the maids 
of honor of Elizabeth, who, banished from court on account 
of her shameful life, became the mistress of the actor and 

^ Lee, A Life of Shakespeare, p. 265. 

^ Young Davenant became an actor; was knighted by Charles II, and changed 
the form of his name. 

^ Lee, A Life of Shakespeare, p. 266. * Ibid., p. 154. 

55 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

dominated his life. We are obliged to refer to these unsavory 
matters because they are the subjects of orthodox writers, 
and cannot properly be ignored in a work of this kind. We 
shall have further occasion to consider them. 

Phillipps calls our attention to the fact that " in the early 
part of the year 1598" the actor was in London; but he says, 
"It is certain, however, that his thoughts were not at this 
time absorbed by literature or the stage. So far from this 
being the case there are good reasons for concluding that they 
were largely occupied with matters relating to pecuniary 
affairs, and to the progress of his influence at Stratford-on- 
Avon." 1 

This is a startling admission by the best of Shaksperian 
students. Only a few months before, the first and second 
parts of "Henry IV" had been produced, and that very year 
appeared "Love's Labours Lost," the first play bearing the 
name, "W. Shakespere. As it was presented before her 
Highnes this last Christmas." This was immediately fol- 
lowed by "The Merry Wives of Windsor," which is said to 
have been written in the brief space of a fortnight. If he were 
not "absorbed by literature or the stage," at this time, when 
these plays were in the first flush of success, when could he 
have been .? Phillipps is right, however ; he was no more ab- 
sorbed in literature, or even the stage, as he only took insig- 
nificant parts, than he was during the remainder of his life at 
Stratford, where he was engaged in petty trade until his death, 
making occasional visits to London in the way of business or 
pleasure. 

HIS FAVORITE ROLE 

When he turned his back upon London he seemed to forget 
the literary works which were ascribed to him; in fact, never 
after displayed any personal interest in them, but gave his 
attention to trading and loaning money. Some of his transac- 

^ Phillipps, Outlines, etc., vol. i, p. l6l. 

56 



THE GHOST OF HAMLET 

tions have left traces in the records of the day, and, though 
prolix, are here produced as an exhibit. These do not include 
legitimate real estate transactions, and, as but a small part of 
a man's business affairs except these get into public records, 
it would seem that his were extensive. 

Extract from a letter of Abraham Sturley to his brother-in-latv, 
Richard Quiney, 24, January ijgy-gS 

This is one speciall remembrance from ur father's motion. 
Itt semeth bi him that our countrlman, Mr. Shaksper, is willinge 
to disburse some monei upon some od yarde land or other att 
Shotterie or neare about us, he thinketh itt a veri fitt patterne 
to move him to deal in the matter of our tithes Bi the instruc- 
cions u can geve him theareof, and by the frendes he can make 
therefor we thinke it a faire marke for him to shoote att and not 
impossible to hitt. It obtained would advance him indeede and 
would do us muche good.^ . . . 

The noate of corne and malte taken the iiij,th of Febrwarij, 
1597. Wm. Shackespere X quarters. 

A Letter from Adrian Quiney, 1598 

To my lovynge sonne Rycharde Qwyney at the Belle in Carter 
Leyne deliver these in London. 

Iff you bargen with Wm. Sha ... or receve therfor brynge 
youre money homme that you maye and see howe knite stock- 
ynges be sold ther is gret byinge of them at Aysshome. 
1600. William Shakspere vs. John Clayton, London, in an action 
to recover £7. Judgment rendered for plaintiff. 

1604. William Shakspere vs. Phillip Rogers, Stratford. Action 
to recover an account for malt, including a loan of money, 
the whole amounting to £1, 15/. \od. [The same man had 
been sued by him four years before for two shillings.] 

1605. July 24, Mr. William Shakspere bought for 440 pounds, 
the moytie or one-half of — the tythes of corne, grayne, 
blade and heye — in the towns of Olde Stratforde, Wel- 
combe and Bishopton. 

1608. William Shakspere vs. John Addenbrooke of Stratford 
and John Horneby surety, action for debt amounting to 
£6. [The precepts in these cases were made by his cousin, 

^ Phillipps, Outlines, etc., vol. 11, p. 57. 

57 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Thomas Green, who seems to have been living with him 
at New Place.] 

Says Phillipps : — 

In the autumn of 1614, there was great excitement at Stratford- 
on-Avon respecting an attempted enclosure of a large portion of 
the neighboring common fields. The design was resisted by the 
Corporation. 

But Combe, he says, — 

spared no exertions to accomplish the object, and, in many in- 
stances, tormented the poor and coaxed the rich into an acquies- 
cence with his views. It appears most probable that Shakespeare 
was one of the latter, and that amongst perhaps other induce- 
ments he was allured to the unpopular side by Combe's agent, 
one Replingham, guaranteeing him from prospective loss. How- 
ever that may be, it is certain that the poet was in favor of the 
enclosures, for on December the 23 rd, the Corporation addressed 
a letter of remonstrance to him on the subject, and another on 
the same day to Mr. Mainwaring. The latter who had been prac- 
tically bribed by some land arrangements at Welcombe undertook 
to protect the interests of Shakespeare, so there can be no doubt 
that the three parties were acting in unison.^ 

The only letter known to have been written to William Shakspere 

Loveinge contreyman I am bolde of yow as of a frende crave- 
inge yowr helpe with xxx.ll,vppon Mr. Bushells and my securytee, 
or Mr. Myttons with me. Mr. Rosswell is nott come to London 
as yeate and I have especiall cawse. Yow shall ffrende me muche 
in helpeing me out of all the debettes I owe in London. I thancke 
God and muche quiet my mynde, which wolde nott be indebeted. 
I am nowe towardes the Cowrte, in hope of answer for the dis- 
patche of my buysenes. Yow shall nether loase creddytt now 
monney by me the Lorde wyllinge; and nowe butt perswade 
yowrselfe soe, as I hope, and yow shall nott need to feare butt, 
with all hartie thanckefuUenes I wyll holde my tyme, and con- 
tent yowr ffrende and yf we bargaine farther, yow shal be the 
paie-master yowrselfe. My tyme biddes me hastene to an ende, 

^ Phillipps, Outlines, etc., vol. i, p. 246. 

58 



THE GHOST OF HAMLET 

and soe I committ thys yowr case and hope of yowr helpe. I 
feare I shall nott be backe thys night ffrom the Cowrte. Haste. 
The Lorde be with yow and with vs all, Amen! ffrom the Bell 
in Carter Lane, the 25 October, 1598. 

To my loveinge good ffrend and contreyman, 
Yowrs in all kyndenes 

Rye Quyney. 
Mr. Wm. Shackespere deliver thees.^ 

A letter from Abraham Sturley to Richard Quiney, 4, November, 
ijq8, relatmg to a court affair 

Our countriman Mr. Wm. Shakspare would procure us monei 
which I will like of as I shall heare when and wheare and howe, 
and I prai let not go that occasion if it mai sorte to ani indifferent 
condicions. 

To his most lovinge brother Mr. Richard Quinei att the Bell 
in Carterlane att London, 

geve these. Paid 2d. 

The above are sufficient to show something of the variety 
and extent of the actor's business operations. While carrying 
on these affairs, he appears to have been living in Stratford 
when Quyney, who was in London, addressed him. Sturley's 
letter, ten days later, indicates that he had seen the actor in 
the mean time and received encouragement of financial aid 
for Quyney, who was anxiously awaiting a response to his 
appeal, before returning home. He had purchased New 
Place in his native town for a permanent residence in 1597, 
and appearances indicate that he soon after took up his resi- 
dence there. Writers have assumed the dates of 1604 and 1610 
simply because of transactions which located him in London 
or Stratford at certain dates. 

"There is evidence," says Phillipps, "in the list of corn and 
malt owners, dated a few months after Shakespeare's pur- 
chase of New Place, that he was then the occupier of that 

* This letter found among Quiney's papers, Phillipps thinks " was never for- 
warded the poet," and cites proof in Sturley's letter of November. Outlines, 
etc, vol. I, p. 165. 

59 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

residence," but he tells us that "his retirement to Stratford 
did not exclude an occasional visit to the metropolis." ^ 

This view seems correct, and accounts for the tradition, 
carelessly related, that he was a frequent visitor to his native 
town instead of London, after the purchase of New Place. 
Phillipps also says of this period, "In the year now under 
consideration, 1598, he appears not only as an advancer of 
money, but also — one who negotiated loans through other 
capitalists." ^ His analysis of the actor's transactions should 
be noted by students interested in the subject. 

During the period that he resided in Stratford, if he had 
friends of any importance in London, or elsewhere, we might 
reasonably suppose that he would correspond with them, but 
not a letter or scrap of writing, or anything connecting him 
with the authorship of the works ascribed to him, is in 
existence. If the florid fancies of some of his biographers were 
true, that he was on intimate fraternal relations with Lord 
Southampton, something ought to be found among the lat- 
ter's records, if not elsewhere, to show it; but the pleasant 
myth of this ardent friendship, fostered by a dishonest pic- 
ture faker, and Ireland, whose forged correspondence between 
Southampton and him afforded a promising field of profit, has 
come, alas! to a disastrous end. Not so, however, the sug- 
gestion left on the subconscious minds of disciples who still 
enjoy the afterglow of this imaginary relation between an 
aristocratic lord and an humble commoner. No, the actor did 
not bother himself with correspondence or with books, but 
kept on in his pursuit of the phantom wealth heedless of all 
else. 

There is enough preserved concerning him to give us a 
fairly correct mental picture of the man setting out for the 
city on foot, rude and unpolished, speaking the uncouth dia- 
lect of the Warwickshire peasantry: — Phillipps says, "pa- 
tois"; close-fisted, shrewd, unscrupulous, and avaricious; yet, 

^ Phillipps, Outlines, etc., vol. ii. ^ Ibid., vol. i, p. 164. 

60 



THE GHOST OF HAMLET 

among boon companions, replete with coarse wit and boister- 
ous good-fellowship. Such is the man as we see him delineated 
in record and tradition. 

A disciple of his gives us this picture of the social conditions 
which moulded him, which we add to those already given : — 

The common people of England in the sixteenth century were 
fierce, jovial, rude, hearty and pugnacious. They lived out of 
doors and had but few books. There favorite amusements were 
bear baitings, cock fights, dog fights, foot-ball, and rough and 
tumble fighting.^ 

After his advent in the metropolis his contact with men 
gradually wore off the acuter angles of demeanor, leaving 
him still an unpolished figure in the world of business ; such a 
man as one not infrequently meets, good-natured, friendly, 
and crude, who, having been bred amid sordid conditions, has 
made himself, figuratively, and naturally cherishes a grateful 
remembrance of his maker. 

It was about the time of the appearance of "Venus and 
Adonis," the close of that mythical period during which, ac- 
cording to his biographers, he had completed his marvelous 
education, that Robert Greene penned this, our only verbal 
portraiture of him : — 

A face like Thersites; his eyes broad and tawney; his hair 
harsh and curled like a horse's mane — his lips were of the larg- 
est size in folio — the only good part that he had to grace his 
visage was his nose, and that was conqueror-like, as beaked as an 
eagle. 

It is true that at the time Greene wrote he was unfriendly 
to the actor, but he was describing him to those familiar with 
his appearance, and had he pictured him so that he was un- 
recognizable, he would have missed his mark totally. De- 
lightful pictures have been painted of his "gentleness," "love 
of children," and, especially, of his literary friendships, but 
there is an entire absence of evidence to this effect. Jonson 

^ Goadby, The England of Shakespeare. 

6i 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

has been especially singled out as one of his very close friends, 
but of this friendship, Brandes, who, in spite of his Dalton- 
ism, gets a dash of true color into his portraiture, makes this 
bold but encouraging stroke, so expressive of the truth that 
it merits attention : — 

He might have been willing enough to drink in the company 
of Ben Jonson, but he had no more depth of affection for him 
than for any other of the dramatic and lyric poets among whom 
his lot had been cast.^ 

This might be regarded by "Bunglers in Criticism," as 
Brandes designates those who question the actor's authorship, 
as a very frank acknowledgment that he was not of them, and 
had no sympathy with their work, dramatic or poetic. Evi- 
dently, however, he is trying to break the force of the fact 
that the actor was unknown to contemporary authors. Their 
silence with regard to this "Midas of Poetry," this "Virgil 
in Poetic Art," has but a single interpretation; they knew 
that he was not of them, but sported the persona for some 
of their profession. Ingleby, who wrote the "Centurie of 
Prayse," remarks that "No man in 1590 ever saw Shake- 
speare as 'the man whom Nature's self had made to mock 
herself and truth to imitate.'" This remark aptly applies 
to him through life. Works bearing his name were, of course, 
known, and deservedly popular. Even his biographers have 
failed to identify the illiterate peasant of Stratford, reared 
to the rudest of occupations, with the high-bred gentleman 
and scholar revealed in the author of the "Shakespeare" 
Works. Tolstoy recognized in him the aristocrat with whom 
he had no fellowship, while Bernard Shaw is outspoken in his 
criticism of his aristocratic attitude toward the common peo- 
ple, and a well-known writer recently wrote these pregnant 
words : — 

"Shakespeare was not of us," cries Browning — while lament- 
ing the defection of Wordsworth from the ranks of progress and 

* George Brandes, William Shakespeare, vol. ii, p. 410. 
62 



THE GHOST OF HAMLET 

liberalism — "Milton was for us, Burns, Shelley were with us — 
they watch from their graves — But Shakespeare? Shakespeare? 
Where is there a line in Shakespeare to entitle him to a place in 
the brotherhood? Bottom, the weaver with the ass's head, re- 
mains his type of the artisan, and the "mutable rank-scented 
many his type of the masses."^ 

Dowden's self-revealment of the author of the "Shake- 
speare" Works reveals "a courtier, a lawyer, a man of learn- 
ing, an aristocrat." 

Says Bismarck : — 

I could not understand how it were possible that a man, how- 
ever gifted with the intuition of genius, could have written what 
was attributed to Shakespeare, unless he had been in touch with 
the great aflFairs of state, behind the scenes of political life, and 
also intimate with all the social courtesies, and refinements of 
thought, which in Shakespeare's time were only to be met with 
in the highest circles; 

And he declares it to be 

incredible that a man who had written the greatest dramas in the 
world's literature, could of his own free will, whilst still in the 
prime of life, have retired to such a place as Stratford-on-Avon, 
and lived for years cut off from intellectual society and out of 
touch with the world. ^ 

We leave it to the reader to consider whether there is any- 
thing in the actor's birth, training, occupation, character, and 
conduct consistent with his portraiture as revealed in the 
works ascribed to him. 

Stratfordians are to be commiserated in their unsuccessful 
attempts to prop their falling cause. Even this is quoted ap- 
provingly as historic verity : — 

The actor at this time was acting, writing and managing — he 
lived among the fine London folks, honoured with the special 
notice of the Queen, and associating every day with the noblest 

' Cf. Ernest Crosby, Shakespeare'' s Attitude toward the Working Classes. 
Leo Tolstoy, Shakespeare. New York and London, 1906. 
^ Sidney Whitman, Latter Days of Bismarck. London, 1903. 

63 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

and wealthiest Englishmen of that brilliant time, yet never 
snapping the link which bound him to the sweet banks of the 
Avon.^ 

We thought we would try to find where the subject of this 
insufferable adulation really was at this time. Thanks to 
Professor Wallace we are enabled to do so. He was lodging 
in a mean part of London, among people of his own class, 
petty shopmen, hucksters, and men of the lowest sort, and 
yet he was, says Collier, "Acting, writing and managing." 
There is not a genuine playbill in existence to show any part 
in which he ever acted ; there is nothing in existence except 
four abbreviated signatures, characterized by pitiable illit- 
eracy, to show that he was above a mark-man; absolutely 
nothing to show that he was ever a manager; no, "the top of 
his performance," as Rowe his first biographer says, was the 
ghost in Hamlet. His literary attainments and successes were 
chiefly valued as serving the prosaic end of providing perma- 
nently for himself and daughters. "His highest ambition was 
to restore among his fellow townsmen the family repute." 

The writer has endeavored faithfully to delineate Shakspere 
of Stratford, to "nought extenuate; nought set down in 
malice"; drawing his materials wholly from friendly sources, 
save in a single instance. This, however, is how his biogra- 
phers, strive as they may to render the ugly fact less repulsive, 
finally end his life story: "On his birthday, April 23, 1616, at 
the age of 52, he ' Itt seems drank too hard at a merrie meeting 
and dyed of a feavour there contracted.' " 

^ Collier's History of English Literature. 



IV 

THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

In order to place our subject in right perspective, we have 
considered the conditions existing in England during the 
period in which the "Shakespeare" Works were produced; 
their character, as regarded by the literary world, and the 
personality of their titular author. As much of a fragmentary 
nature has been written respecting the validity of this title, 
we should consider this branch of the subject. No biographer 
of the Stratford actor has escaped the painful dilemma in 
which he found himself, when he considered the wonderful 
erudition and poetic genius displayed in the works in ques- 
tion, and attempted to form an acquaintance with their pu- 
tative author. This fueling is not peculiar to the student of 
the twentieth century; it has often found expression in the 
past. Let us place ourselves in London at the time of the 
future actor's arrival in 1587, and keep him and his surround- 
ings in view amid the conditions we have described, during 
his life there. 

At first, it is conceded, he found temporary employment in 
the Burbage stables, and, later, held the horses of the patrons 
of "The Theater,'* which stood in the pleasant fields of the 
Liberty at Shoreditch, then a rural suburb of the metropolis. 
His diligence and readiness to make himself useful led to his 
employment as call boy, and here he was in a position to be- 
come acquainted with the business of the theater, to form 
friendly relations with the actors, and, through them, with 
some of the writers who supplied his employers with plays. 
Just how long it took him to reach this position we cannot 
determine, probably not long, nor, indeed, very long to be able 
to take minor parts in plays, for he had been from youth 

6s 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

familiar with the acting of strolling players, some of whom he 
must have known when they visited Stratford and were en- 
tertained by his father. This rough but good-natured and 
resourceful rustic of twenty-three, speaking the rude but 
amusing dialect of Warwickshire, was in a position to make 
himself useful to the Burbages, and to become in time, as 
Greene designates him, an "absolute Factotum" and man 
of affairs. Before his arrival in London, "Euphues," herald 
of the English novel, and the " Shepherd's Calendar," harbin- 
ger of a new era in poetry, had aroused a fresh interest in 
literature, and from this time works of a higher order of genius 
began to appear. Plays of a new type found their way to the 
stage, and supplanted those of the past. Though anonymous, 
they seem to have passed as the work of men who were known 
as petty actors and playwrights. 

If we allow a couple of years for this raw rustic to arrive 
at the position accorded him, — namely, 1589, — we easily 
recognize the men who composed the literary Bohemia of 
London, with several of whom he probably had some ac- 
quaintance. Robert Greene, who had received a degree from 
Cambridge, was about twenty-eight, a man of the vilest 
habits, who picked up a subsistence by acting minor parts 
on the stage, and by writing; Thomas Lodge, thirty-two, who 
was then of some repute as a writer; John Lyly, graduate of 
Oxford, thirty-four, regarded as a promising author; Christo- 
pher Marlowe, a Cambridge graduate, twenty-four, a repro- 
bate doomed by his violent nature to an untimely end; 
Thomas Middleton, Gray's Inn, twenty, soon to be a popular 
playwright; Thomas Nash, also a Cambridge man, twenty- 
one, and sometimes a co-worker with Greene ; John Webster, 
co-worker with the two former; George Peele, an Oxford 
graduate and reckless sot ; Anthony Munday, thirty-six. Poet 
Laureate of London; and Michael Drayton, twenty-five, 
since honored with a monument in Westminster Abbey; Ben 
Jonson, then unheard of, was in school, being but fourteen or 

66 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

fifteen years old. These men, too many of them of dissolute 
habits, were professional workers who obtained a precarious 
living wholly or partly by their pens, several of them eking 
out their incomes by taking minor parts on the stage. Be- 
sides these were young men connected with the Inns of Court 
who wrote anonymously or under pseudonyms ; indeed, it was 
a common practice for authors to use the names of others on 
their title-pages, and for publishers to issue their wares under 
well-known names or suggestive initials. No book, however, 
could be published without a registered license. Then, as now, 
the market was overstocked with literary material which 
never received sufficient encouragement to be honored with 
registration. Plays accepted for the stage were sent to a 
scrivenry, where copies in sufficient number for the use of the 
actors were made, and these became one of the "properties" 
of the theater. It was not necessary for the author's name 
to appear on the Stationers' Register, that of the owner of 
the manuscript who had purchased it for profit being suffi- 
cient. 

Leaving the future actor amid the conditions we have de- 
scribed, we will endeavor to get a glimpse of him as he ap- 
peared to his contemporaries while pursuing his life in the 
London of his time. 

AS SEEN BY CONTEMPORARIES 

We are not to regard it as strange that so little personal 
notice was taken of him, especially when we consider how the 
players' profession, of which he was an inferior member, was 
regarded during his life. It is stranger that what was said did 
not identify him with works which bear his name. Every 
attempt has been made, not always intentionally, to befog 
this issue. We know how writers have pressed into their 
service Lord Southampton, who, when the actor went to 
London, was a lad of fourteen, having been born in 1573. 
At a later age he was an intimate friend and imitator of the 

67 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

unfortunate Essex, and when in 1592 the "Venus and Adonis" 
was dedicated to him by its author, was a hopelessly dissolute 
young blade of nineteen at court. Like other titled court 
favorites who were regarded as superior beings by the humble 
actors, whose greatest joy it was to sport their garb, and imi- 
tate their manners for a brief hour upon the stage, the gay 
young nobleman patronized the playhouses, and, being a 
somewhat conspicuous person, naturally attracted the atten- 
tion of the actors; hence it was but natural for writers to 
dedicate their effusions to this influential youth, and to 
couch their dedicatory epistles in the most respectful and 
amiable terms. Several did so, notably Barnes, who ad- 
dressed Southampton's eyes as "The heavenly lamps that 
gave the Muses light," and even the graver Florio, in his 
dedication to him of a dictionary, effervesces in this fashion: 
"As to me and many more the glorious and generous sun- 
shine of your honour, hath infused light and life." 

Dedications to wealthy noblemen by needy authors were 
plentiful, and do not indicate personal relations or even a 
speaking acquaintance between them. The volumes that 
have been written, based solely upon assumption, some of 
them offensively sentimental, to prove intimate personal re- 
lations between the actor and Southampton are pure fiction. 
Even poor young Ireland, who seems to have possessed a 
sense of research unusually keen, being unable to find satis- 
factory evidence of such a personal friendship, thought it 
would be well to fabricate it, and, to one who is willing to 
waste time on such a subject, it is curious to observe how 
Ireland's fictions have been reflected in much that has been 
written upon it since. 

Perhaps the gossip respecting the gift of a thousand pounds 
by Southampton to the actor, which seems to be now fast 
growing into an historical fact, should be alluded to in 
passing. Rowe first gave it currency a century and a half 
after the actor's death : — 

68 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

There is one instance so singular in the magnificence of this 
patron of Shakespeare's, that if I had not been assured that 
the story was handed down by Sir William Davenant, who was 
probably very well acquainted with his affairs, I should not have 
ventured to have inserted, that my lord Southampton at one 
time gave him a thousand pounds to enable him to go through 
with a purchase which he heard he had a mind to.^ 

Evidently Rowe was unacquainted with the character of 
Davenant, who he had been "assured" by some one was the 
source of the story, nor would he have suggested that he was 
"very well acquainted with his affairs" had he been aware 
that Davenant was but ten years old when the actor died, and 
unborn when he acquired New Place, which some commenta- 
tors have inferred was the purchase alluded to, and which cost 
but sixty pounds. Phillipps, who thinks the supposed gift was 
for the Asbies lawsuit, computes the relative value of money, 
when he wrote in 1886, at twelve times its value then; that 
is, twelve thousand pounds or sixty thousand dollars. Other 
writers have made equally unwarranted estimates. Lee au- 
thoritatively assures us that the purchasing power of money 
was then "eight times what it is now"; ^ and White, that it 
was six times ; ^ while Malone informs us that it was three and 
a half times greater.^ The difference in the comparative pur- 
chasing value of money at the time these authors wrote does 
not at all account for their widely varying estimates. The 
fact is, that to make an estimate of the relative purchasing 
power of money at widely separated periods would require 
precise knowledge of the value of all commodities at both 
periods, something in this case not obtainable, and writers 
on the very fruitful theme of the authorship of the " Shake- 
speare" Works have as usual regaled us with guesses. 

^ Rowe's Life of Shakespeare ; George Steevens, Esq., The Plays of William 
Shakespeare, vol. i, p. Ix. London, 1803. 

^ Lee, A Life of Shakespeare, p. 3. 

^ White, The Writings of Shakespeare, p. xH. 

* Johnson and Steevens, The Plays and Poems of Shakespeare, vol. i, p. 73. 
London, 1803. 

69 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

We may well dismiss Rowe as a disqualified witness in re- 
gard to the relations between Southampton and the actor. 
Rowe wrote the first life-sketch of the actor, constructing it 
of hearsay and gossip. To this flimsy structure theorists have 
added material of a similar character, until this "baseless 
fabric of a vision" fronts the world like an impregnable 
fortress. 

BEN JONSON 

Let us now examine Ben Jonson, whose testimony is al- 
ways appealed to by the actor's biographers as the most im- 
portant, as he and Marlowe are claimed to have been his two 
intimates. As a knowledge of the character of a witness is 
important, we will seek it from such friendly sources as 
Brandes and Malone. Says the former: — 

He was strong and massive in body, racy and coarse, full of 
self-esteem and combative instincts, — a true poet in so far as he 
was not only irregular in his life and quite incapable in saving 
any of the money he now and then earned, but was, moreover, 
subject to hallucinations. ... In September — "1598" — he 
killed in a duel another of Henslowe's actors — Gabriel Spencer 
— and was therefore branded on the thumb with the letter T 
(Tyburn).^ 

While Ben lay in durance on account of his duel, he was 
converted to Catholicism by a priest who attended him. After 
his reconciliation with Protestantism, in token of his sincere 
return to the doctrine which gave laymen as well as priests 
access to the chalice, he drained at one draught the whole of 
the consecrated wine. "Not without humor," moreover, to 
use Jonson's own favorite words, is the story of the way in 
which Raleigh's son, to whom he acted as governor during 
a tour in France, took a malicious pleasure in making his 
mentor dead drunk, having him wheeled in a wheelbarrow 
through the streets of Paris, and showing him off to the mob 
at every street corner. 

' George Brandes, William Shakespeare, vol. 1, pp. 385-88. New York, 1898. 

70 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 
Malone also refers to a similar incident : — 

One day when Ben had taken a plentiful dose, young Raleigh 
got a great blanket, and a couple of men, who layd Ben in It, 
and then with a pole carried him between their shoulders to Sir 
Walter, telling him their young master had sent home his tutor. ^ 

Gifford, his biographer, endeavored to discredit this, call- 
ing it "an absurd tale," but having his attention called to 
the evidence, acknowledged his error. Dyce corrects it in a 
note.^ 

In the summer of 1618, Jonson undertook a pedestrian 
journey to Edinburgh, where he became the guest of William 
Drummond, the poet. This is the record that Drummond 
made after his departure, which he evidently welcomed, 
though he admired Jonson's literary genius. 

January 19, 1619. He is a great lover and praiser of himself; 
a contemner and scorner of others; given rather to lose a friend 
than a jest; jealous of every word and action of those about him 
(especially after drink, which is one of the elements in which he 
liveth) : a dissembler of ill parts which raigne in him; a bragger 
of some good he wanteth; thinketh nothing well but what either 
he himself or some of his friends and countrymen hath said or 
done, he is passionately kynde and angry; careless either to gain 
or keep; vindictive, but if he is well answered, at himself. 

For any religion, as being versed in both. Interpreteth best 
sayings and deeds often to the worst. Oppressed with fantasie, 
which hath ever mastered his reason, a general disease in many 
Poets.' 

Barrett Wendell, his biographer, pronounces this, "in- 
comparably the most vivid portrait in existence of an Eliza- 
bethan man of letters." 

Jonson's style of invective is seen in this skit in behalf of 
Poesy aimed, it is believed, at the actor: "Nor is it any blem- 
ish to her fame, that such lean, ignorant and blasted wits, 

^ Johnson and Steevens, The Plays and Poems of Shakespeare, vol. ii, p. 388. 
2 William Gifford, The Works of Ben Jonson, pp. lO, 43. Boston, 1853. 
^ Dyce, Notes on Ben Jonson's Conversations, p. 21. 

7\ 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

such brainless gulls, should utter their Stolen wares with such 
appliances in our vulgar ears." 

This is perhaps enough to give us an approximately fair 
picture of the witness, and now we will consider his testimony. 
In his lines accompanying the Droeshout portrait in the Folio, 
he says this : — 

To the Reader 

This Figure, that thou here seest put, 

It was for gentle Shakespeare cut; 
Wherein the Grauer had a strife 

With Nature, to out-doo the life: 
O, could he but have drawne his wit 

As well in brasse, as he hath hit 
His face; the Print would then surpasse 

All, that was euer writt in brasse. 
But, since he cannot, Reader, looke 

Not on his Picture, but his Booke. 

It may be asked, how Jonson's address can be reconciled 
with the theory that neither the "Picture" nor the "Booke" 
are the actor's, and preserve the commonly accepted meaning 
of the address ^. 

A fair answer may be given to this by showing how in- 
sincere such expressions were at the time this was written. 
There is ample evidence of their worthlessness, and Malone 
gives us his opinion in this case. Referring to Droeshout's 
portraits, he says : — 

By comparing any of these prints with the original pictures 
from whence the engravings were made, a better judgment 
might be formed of the fidelity of our author's portrait, as ex- 
hibited by this engraver, than from Jonson's assertion, that 
in "this figure" 

"the Grauer had a strife 
With Nature, to out-doo the life"; 

a compliment which in the books of that age was paid to so 
many engravers, that nothing decisive can be inferred from 
it.i 

^ Johnson and Steevens, The Plays and Poems of Shakespeare, vol. i, p. 88. 

72 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

As to the worthlessness of prefatory eulogies, we take this 
evidence of Lee : — 

Adulatory sonnets to patrons are met with in the preliminary 
or concluding pages of numerous sixteenth and seventeenth cen- 
tury books. Sonnets addressed to men are not only found in the 
preliminary pages, but are occasionally interpolated in sonnet- 
sequences of fictitious love.^ 

Scores of instances could be cited to show that the most 
exaggerated praise of worthless portraits, and the loftiest ex- 
pressions of friendship, purely fictitious, were, in Jonson's 
time, the fashion in prefatory addresses. In this case Jonson 
was following a well-beaten path, and it is extremely im- 
probable that he had seen Droeshout's caricature of the 
actor before writing. Is it doing violence to ethical canons 
to suggest that Jonson's effusion was purely professiotial, 
paid for in current coin of the realm, and was not prompted by 
a "loving interest," as Phillipps fancied, in Jaggard's so-called 
speculation .? 

If we are to believe some of the older writers who have 
given examples of Jonson's expressions with regard to the 
subject of his eulogy, he could not have taken a "loving inter- 
est" in the publication of writings attributed to him; in fact, 
in 1598, he said: "He degrades the stage"; in 1601, "He bar- 
barizes the English language, — He wags an ass's ears; He 
is an ape"; in 1614, "His tales are but drolleries"; in 
1616, "He is a poet-ape and upstart; a hypocrit"; and in 
1619, "He wanted art and sometime sense." This has been 
taken as implying that Jonson recognized him as an author; 
but what we have quoted above, namely, "He degrades the 
stage," is the keynote to his subsequent utterances, and is 
good evidence that Jonson in every case referred to the only 
art he laid claim to, namely, the histrionic art. Even the term 
"poet-ape" simply means one who aped or mimicked a poet. 

This was all changed, however, in 1623, and unless there was 

* Lee, A Life 0} Shakespeare, p. 138. 

73 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

some unusual reason for this change, would it not seem more 

reasonable to conclude that he took his fee and served his 

client, and so must not be taken any more seriously than the 

editors, Heminge and Condell? 

The perfunctory character of the address is suggested by 

comparing it with other contemporary addresses containing 

similar sentiments. Under the portrait of Captain John 

Smith, 1616, is the following, for instance: — 

These are the Lines that shew thy Face; but these 

That shew thy Grace and Glory brighter bee. 

Thy Faire Discoveries and Fowle-Overthrowes 

Of Salvages, much Civiliz'd by thee 

Best shew thy spirit, and to it Glory Wyn: 

So thou art Brasse without, but Gold within.^ 

The lines under the portrait of Du Bartas, 162 1, probably 
furnished Jonson with the closing sentiments of his eulogy: — 

Ces traits au front, marquez de Scavoir y d* Esprit 
Ne Sont que du Bartas un ombre exterieur 
Le Pinceau n'en peut plus; mais, de sa propre Plume 
II s'est peint le Dedans, dans son divin Volume.^ 

But, it may be objected, that there is one expression in the 

eulogy by Jonson which cannot be reconciled with the theory 

of the actor's non-authorship of the plays in the Folio: — 

Sweet Swan of Avon! what a sight it were 
To see thee in our waters yet appeare. 

Of course this seems to identify the actor with the author, 
for such an expression as occurs in the following: — 

Or when thy Sockes were on 
Leave thee alone for the comparison 
Of all, that insolent Greece or haughtie Rome 
Sent forth, or since did from their ashes come, — 

might be claimed to be a mere figure of speech which an 
eulogist could apply to any actor or even author; but "Sweet 
Swan of Avon" seems to be an identification. Before meeting 

^ A Description of New England. London, 1616. 
^ Du Bartas, his Divine Weekes and Workes. 1621. 

74 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

this objection it may be proper to call attention to the singular 
fact that Jonson used the sentiments in the latter quotation 
in eulogizing Bacon, whom, he declares: — 

Hath filled up all numbers, and performed that in our tongue, 
which may he compared or preferred either to insolent Greece or 
haughty Rome, in short, within his view, and about his time were 
all the wits born that could honour a language.^ 

That Jonson was an extravagant eulogist appears from the 
following, addressed to Edward Alleyn, an actor, who ac- 
cumulated property and left it to found the institution known 
as Dulwich College : — 

If Rome so great and in her wisest age, 
Fear'd not to boast the glories of her stage; 
As skilful Roscious, and grave iEsop, men 
Yet crown'd with honours, as with riches then; 
Who had no less a trumpet of their name 
Than Cicero, whose every breath was fame: 
How can so great example die in me? 
That, Allen, I should pause to publish thee; 
Who both their graces in thyself hast more 
Outstript, than they did all that went before. 
And present worth in all does so contract 
As others speak, but only thou dost act. 
Wear this renoun — 't is just that who did give 
So many poets life, by one should live.^ 

Alleyn acquired wealth as Henslowe did by dealing in 
dramatic material, and does not seem to have made much 
fame as an actor; yet Jonson says that he as far outstripped 
Roscious, the greatest figure of his time in Roman comedy, 
and iS^sop Clodius, regarded by Horace as his equal in tragedy, 
both intimate friends of Cicero, and the former his instructor, 
as they did all their predecessors. What reliance can be placed 
upon a man who deals in such fiction as this? Perhaps this 
eff^usion may pass as one of the "hallucinations" of which 
his biographer speaks. Attention should also be called to 

^ Ben Jonson, Timber or Discoveries^ p. 47. London, 1898. 

2 William GiflFord, The Works oj Ben Jonson, p. 792. Boston, 1853. 

75 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

what he says regarding the actor's art. In the eulogy he ex- 
claims: "His Art doth give the fashion"; yet a short time 
before he told Drummond that "Shakspeer wanted arte." 
Ingleby's weak attempt to break the force of this remark by 
casting doubt on Drummond's accuracy is far from convinc- 
ing; and now as to the term "Sweet Swan of Avon." 

There is no doubt that it seems to reveal Jonson's intention 
to identify the author of the works with the actor. We are 
quite willing to admit that he knew whether he was or was 
not their author, but whether he has revealed to us this 
knowledge is another matter. What, however, has been 
quoted to show the character of "Honest Ben" and his 
disregard of the verities is sufficient to disqualify him as a 
reliable witness; but though his testimony is of little value, 
so many believe that he, if nobody else, knew who was 
the author of the works, that we venture to introduce the 
swan story of Ariosto related by Bacon, ^ which is to the 
effect, that to the thread of every man's life is attached a 
medal bearing his name. When this thread is severed by the 
fatal shears, it is seized by a swan which bears it away. The 
swans in their aimless flight drop many of the medals which 
fall into the river Lethe, and are lost ; but some swans, having 
medals with worthy names, bear them to the Temple of Im- 
mortality. This story was familiar to Jonson, and it might 
be asked whether, if he knew that the actor was not the 
author, he might not have figured him in one of his "fits of 
fantasie" as the swan who bore the real author's name to the 
Temple.? The question is perhaps of small moment, but it 
is certainly suggestive. There are allusions also in Jonson's 
eulogy which are quite as misleading as this; but aside from 
the sufficient fact of his unreliability, we must not forget 
that he was exercising his talents professionally, and could 
not well have avoided allusion to the titular author of the 
book which he was introducing to his readers. 

^ De Augmentis, Spedding, vol. 8, p. 428. 

76 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Of course, since the inscription by an unknown hand was 
placed upon the actor's tomb, many, with only a hearsay 
knowledge of him, and perhaps with no knowledge at all of 
the history of the "Shakespeare" Works, have recorded 
their belief that he was their author, but this only proves the 
validity of the belief in the same degree that the record of a be- 
lief in predestination or any other dogma proves it to be true. 

But we must not lightly dismiss "Honest Ben," for he is 
to prove a most important witness, and is to reveal to us the 
"Sweet Swan of Avon" in a startling manner. In 1599, 
"Every Man out of his Humor" was placed upon the stage, 
which clearly discloses his knowledge of the secret he has con- 
cealed with so much bluster in the Eulogy, and why he later 
applied to the actor the term "poet-ape" and "hypocrit," 
meaning one who apes a poet, a hypocrite "on the Greek stage 
being" a mimic who accompanied the delivery of an actor 
by gestures. In this play, under the guise of Sogliardo, a 
clown, is presented in a ridiculous light, the man whom after 
his death, if he meant the actor, he professed to have loved 
"on this side idolatry." He also presents another friend, 
Puntavolo. The likenesses are so boldly drawn as to be un- 
mistakable. 

It will be remembered that shortly before the production of 
this play, the actor had secured the recognition by the Herald's 
College of a coat of arms, for which application had been 
made some years before by his father. The strenuous efforts, 
and the vulgar methods resorted to in obtaining this recogni- 
tion, naturally furnished the wits with a fruitful subject for 
ridicule, and supplied matter for several plays. Jonson, al- 
ways impecunious, seized upon it for capital, and used it with 
signal advantage. He even made his names picturesque: 
Sogliardo (sloven) who is said to have a brother, Sordido 
(miser) is a clown who has purchased a coat of arms, and 
Puntavolo (a swift point) in this case a skilled spearman, for 
he is called in the play a pheuterer (spear-bearer), a pheuter 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

being a rest attached to the saddle of a man at arms to sup- 
port the spear. We are told in the "Faerie Queene": — 
A speare hefeutred and at him he bore.^ 

With these is Carlo Buffone (Buffoon) who enlivens the 
dialogue. More clearly to identify this spear-bearer he also 
bears Bacon's crest, a boar statant, while the clown's crest 
is the same boar diffait et rampant, or decapitated and up- 
right. When the spear-man inquires what his purchased 
crest represents, he replies: "Your Bore without a head." 

This is the scene : — 

Enter Sogliardo, Puntavolo, Carlo. 

Sog. {in his Warwickshire dialect). Nay, I will haue him, I 
am resolute for that, by this Parchment, Gentlemen, I haue ben 
so toil'd among the Harrots yonder, you will not beleeue; they 
doe speake i' the straungest language, and giue a man the hard- 
est termes for his money, that euer you knew. 

Car. But ha' you armes.? ha' you armes.'* 

Sog. Yfaith, I thanke God I can write myselfe Gentleman 
now, here's my Pattent, it cost me thirtie pound by this breath. 

Punt. A very faire Coat, well charg'd and full of Armorie. 

Sog. Nay, it has as much varietie of colours in it, as you haue 
scene a Coat haue, how like you the Crest, Sir? 

Punt. I vnderstand it not well, what is't.? 

Sog. Marry Sir, it is your Bore without a head, Rampant. 

Punt. A Bore without a head, that's very rare. 

Car. I, and Rampant too; troth I commend the Herald's wit, 
he has deciphered him well; A Swine without a head, without 
braine, wit, anything indeed, Ramping to Gentilitie. You can 
blazon the rest signior.^ Can you not.^ 

Punt. Let the word be, "Not without mustard," your Crest 
is very rare, sir. 

Car. A frying-pan to the crest, had had no fellow. 

(Act III, Scene i.) 

This blazon, or motto, which Puntavolo suggests as appro- 
priate to the crest of Sogliardo, plainly identifies it with that 

^ Faerie Queene, i/, iv, 45. 
78 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

of the actor, which was "Not without Right." Its attach- 
ment to Bacon's coat of arms is significant, and especially so 
is Sogliardo's reply to Puntavolo when asked what arms he 
had acquired : " Your Bore without a head." Jonson is said 
to have made the actor's acquaintance in 1598, not long before 
this scene was written. He had been in London eleven years, 
but the picture that Jonson draws of him under the title of 
Sogliardo, though possibly exaggerated, must preserve in 
some degree the impression which he made upon his carica- 
turist years after many of the best plays were published. 
We are certainly justified in dismissing "Honest Ben" as a 
witness for the defendant. 

But how shall we dispose of Puntavolo, the feuterer, or 
spear-bearer, so analogous to the word Shake-spear, for it is 
to this word that it is related, and of his crest which as fully 
identifies him with Bacon as if Bacon's name had been used ; 
or how dispose of the clown possessing Bacon's crest, but 
headless or brainless, which, with the motto, as plainly indi- 
cates the actor as if it, too, bore his name? We leave the 
question to the judgment of the reader, and whether Jonson 
knew that the ignorant actor was enjoying an honor not legit- 
imately his. 

Let us now place upon the stand another contemporary, 
Robert Greene. Greene was six years the senior of the actor, 
having taken a master's degree at Cambridge in 1583, and 
having since led a loose life like most of his associates. He 
was an erratic genius with a sensitive conscience, and an over- 
powering thirst for alcohol; hence, seasons of debauchery 
and want were followed by periods of passionate repentance. 
He died in 1592 at the early age of thirty-four, "after a de- 
bauch of pickled herrings and Rhenish." 

In his "Farewell to Folly," 1587, reflecting, no doubt, the 
feelings of others as well as his own, he expresses his views 
respecting the authorship of the plays popularly imputed to 
the actor, attributing them to some who, "For their calling 

79 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

and gravity, being loth to have any profane pamphlets pass 
under their hands get some other to set his name to their 
verses"; and he significantly concludes that "He that cannot 
write true English without the help of clerks of parish churches 
will needs make himself the father of interludes"; and in his 
"Groatsworth of Wit," he says, "There is an upstart Crow 
beautified with our Feathers, that with his Tyger's heart 
wrapt in a Player's hyde, supposes he is as wel able to bombast 
out a blank verse as the best of you, and being an absolute 
Johannes factotum^ is in his owne conceit the onely Shake- 
scene in the Country." ^ 

The expression, "Tyger's heart wrapt in a Player's hyde'* 
is from the play of "Henry VL" Henry Chettle, who pub- 
lished Greene's book, apologized for this attack, but men- 
tioned no names. In the apology he used these words: — 

I am as sorry as if the original} fault had been my fauh, be- 
cause my selfe have seene his desmeanor no less civil! than he 
is excelent in the qualitie he professes; besides, divers of wor- 
ship have reported his uprightnes of dealing, which argues his 
honesty, and his facetious grace in writing, that aprooves his 
Art. 2 

This is all, and, if it refers to the actor, as so many of his 
admirers claim, though some deny, furnishes very little for 
favorable comment. All that Chettle had himself personally 
noticed was the civil demeanor of the person alluded to, with 
whom he seems to have had the slightest acquaintance; the 
rest he had heard reported. Surely this is faint praise, and 
notably perfunctory; but had it rung with paeans of admira- 
tion from Chettle it should still have passed unnoticed, for 
Chettle could hardly have been much respected. Dekker 
thus introduces him to the poets in Elysium : — 

In comes Chettle sweating and blowing by reason of his fatnes; 
to welcome whom, because he was of olde acquaintance, all rose 

^ Groatsworth of Wit, n.p. London, 1629. 

* Henry Chettle, Kind Heart's Dream. London [1592], n.d. 

80 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

up, and fell presentlie on their knees to drinck a health to all the 
lovers of Hellicon. 

And Brandes, from whom this is quoted, remarks: — 

Elze has conjectured, possibly with justice, that in this puffing 
and sweating old tun of flesh, who is so whimsically greeted with 
mock reverence by the whole gay company, we have the very 
model from whom Shakespeare drew his demigod, the immortal 
Sir John Falstaff.^ 

Nash is even more bitter, calling the actor an "idiot-art- 
master," who obtained all his learning in a grammar school, 
and sneers at the possibility of his "translating two penny 
pamphlets from the Italian without any knowledge even of 
its articles." This refers to the Italian plays which had not 
long before been written. Such authors, he says, "condemn 
arts as improbable, contenting themselves with a little country 
grammar knowledge, thanking God with that abscedarie priest 
in Lincolnshire, that he never knew what that Romish, popish 
Latin meant." ^ 

In 1601, Jonson's "Poetaster" was produced, in which 
the principal character of Crispinus is ridiculed as Sogliardo 
is for his folly in attempting to acquire gentility by the dis- 
play of a coat of arms. There can be no doubt that Jonson's 
satire in this production is aimed at the actor. It is too plainly 
drawn to be doubted. The father of Crispinus is described as 
"A man of worship," which John Shakspere's humble neigh- 
bors considered him. Crispinus is uneducated, and is ad- 
vised to employ a tutor as he has "a. canting coat of arms," 
which unmistakably identifies him with the actor, though 
Fleay refuses to recognize the caricature. 

We now come to the Ratsey episode, as it is denominated 
by Phillipps, who has printed it from the original entered 
for publication at Stationers' Hall, May 31, 1605. It seems 
to have been written solely as a vehicle for a lampoon upon 

^ Brandes, William Shakespeare, vol. i, p. 21 1. 

* Thomas Nash, The Anatomy of Absurdity. London, 1589. 

81 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

the Stratford actor, and gives an interesting view of the status 
of strolling players of that time. It begins in this wise: — 

Gamaliell Ratsey and his company travailing up and downe 
the countrey — came by chance into a inne where that night 
there harbored a company of players.^ 

Having sent for several of the principal ones, he had them 
perform for him and dismissed them with a liberal douceur. 
The next morning, Ratsey, seemingly a dissolute gentleman 
of wealth, sets out well mounted, and, overtaking them, was 
met with obsequious greetings which he received contempt- 
uously, bidding them "leave off their cringing and comple- 
ments," and compelling them to return the money he had 
given them. Having done this he complimented "The chief- 
est of them" upon his presence upon the stage, and begins 
his satire upon the Stratford actor in these words : — 

Get thee to London, for if one man [Burbage] were dead they 
will have much neede of such a one as thou art. There would 
be none in my opinion fitter than thyselfe to play his parts. My 
conceipt is such of thee, that I durst adventure all the mony in 
my purse on thy head to play Hamlet with him for a wager. 
There thou shalt learne to be frugall, — for players were never 
so thriftie as they are now about London — and to feede upon 
all men, to let none feede upon thee; to make thy hand a stranger 
to thy pocket, thy hart slow to performe thy tongues promise; 
and when thou feelest thy purse well lined, buy thee some place 
or lordship in the country, that, growing weary of playing, thy 
mony may there bring thee to dignitie and reputation; then thou 
needest care for no man, nor not for them that before made thee 
prowd with speaking their words upon the stage. 

Sir, I thanke you, quoth the player, for this good counsell; I 
promise you I will make use of it, for I have heard, indeede, of 
some that have gone to London very meanly, and have come in 
time to be exceeding wealthy. 

And in this presage and propheticall humor of mine, says 
Ratsey, kneele downe — Rise up. Sir Simon Two Shares and 
a Halfe; thou art now one of my knights, and the first knight 
that ever was player in England. 

^ Philllpps, Outlines, etc., vol. i, p. 325. 
82 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

This appears to have been written not far from the close 
of the Stratford actor's theatrical activity, and, with the 
opinions of contemporaries aheady cited, shows us plainly 
how he was known to them at different periods, from a few 
years after his advent to near the close of his career in London. 
There is a verisimilitude about them which, though possibly 
exaggerated, stamps them as genuine, revealing to us the same 
figure that walked the streets of Stratford in early life, un- 
lettered, rude, immoral, selfish, — all of which was mellowed 
by a coarse natural wit, — a figure far from agreeable, and 
which in the later years of his life among his Stratford con- 
temporaries was unrelieved by the grace of generosity or 
solicitude for the welfare of others, but retained the same 
sordid features that pertained to the rude rustic who afore- 
time displayed his dramatic "wit" in the shambles. 

In 1606, there was printed in London, "The Return from 
Pernassus," a trilogy which had been formerly acted by 
Cambridge students. In the first scene of Act V, Studioso, 
a student, bewails England's neglect of her scholars, and her 
exaggerated esteem of actors, and ends by declaring that, — 

With mouthing words that better wits have framed, 
They purchase lands, and now Esquiers are made. 

To this, Philomusus, lover of the Muse, replies : — 

Whatere they seeme being even at the best, 
They are but sporting fortunes scornfull jest. 

Here we have again the familiar skit at the Stratford 
actor's unfortunate purchase of a coat of arms with "words 
that better wits have framed." As so many of the words he 
mouthed were from the "Shakespeare" plays, we cannot 
wonder if the insinuation they carry, like a similar one in the 
Ratsey episode, seems to some minds worthy of considera- 
tion. 

It may be replied that the trilogy is an unfortunate source 
from which to quote, and that it contains a commendation of 

83 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

the actor of a nature to show that the Cambridge students 
beheved him to be the author of the works. It might be re- 
joined that behefs are not admissible evidence; but what 
really is this commendation? Throughout the trilogy sounds 
an unmistakable note of contempt for actors; "Adonis" and 
"Lucrece" are mentioned approvingly. On their title-pages 
was the name, "William Shakespeare," but this was a matter 
of common knowledge, and in no wise identified them with 
the Stratford actor. In the last part of the trilogy, however, 
some of the students masquerade as Burbage and Kempe, 
two popular actors, who, to enliven the scene, boastingly 
declare that "few of the university pens play well," and that 
"our fellow Shakespeare puts them all down, aye, and Ben 
Jonson, too." Certainly such a remark in a satirical play by 
rollicking students is of no weight in determining a question 
of authorship. Is it in any wise equivalent to the condem- 
natory quotation which the actor's biographers ignore, while 
flaunting the commendatory one ? Of this the reader is com- 
petent to judge. Possibly he may be interested to ascertain, 
if he has not already done so, what other contemporary and 
friendly authorities have said to identify him with the au- 
thorship of the works, and we will refer to "The Centurie of 
Prayse," from which we have already quoted. 

The "Allusions" and supposed "Allusions," beginning with 
Greene, Chettle, and Nash, number, between 1592 and 1624, 
one hundred and nineteen. The most important we have al- 
ready treated. While they refer to certain plays and poems 
which bear the name " Shake-speare " or "Shakespeare" on 
their title-pages, a name, as we shall see, employed by several 
unknown authors on similar works, some of which alluded to 
are still in dispute, not one identifies the actor with the author 
of the plays or poems. That this statement of non-identity is 
not overstrained is acknowledged by no less an authority than 
Fleay, the author of a life of the actor, who, speaking of these 
allusions, declares that 

84 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

They consist almost entirely of slight references to his pub- 
lished works, and have no bearing of importance on his career. 
Nor, indeed, have we any extensive material of any kind to aid 
us in this investigation; one source of information which is 
abundant for most of his contemporaries, being in his case en- 
tirely absent. 

This is a most important admission, made by a student 
eager to find facts relating to his subject. He continues: — 

Neither as addressed to him by others, nor by him to others, 
do any commendatory verses exist in connection with any of his 
or any other men's work published in his lifetime — a notable 
fact in whatever way it may be explained. Nor can he he traced 
in any personal contact beyond a very limited circle, althoiigh the 
fanciful might-have-he ens, so largely indulged in hy his biographers 
might at first lead to an opposite conclusion} 

This is a precise and true statement, supported by all the 
evidence in existence respecting the actor, and just what and 
all that we should expect of the man as we know him. But 
Lee, one of the most dogmatic and unreliable writers on the 
subject that has yet appeared to confuse and mislead the 
casual reader, one who never hesitates to restate as positive 
fact what his predecessors have hesitatingly suggested as 
possible, declares that 

The scantiness of contemporary records of Shakespeare's 
career has been much exaggerated. An investigation extending 
over centuries has brought together a mass of detail which far 
exceeds that accessible in the case of any other contemporary 
professional writer. Nevertheless, some important links are 
missing, and at some critical points appeal to conjecture is in- 
evitable. But the fully ascertained facts are numerous enough to 
define sharply the general direction that Shakespeare's career 
followed.^ 

Perhaps it is sufficient to say that "the mass of detail" 
which Lee speaks of, based upon authentic records, or even 

1 Frederick Gard Fleay, A Chronicle History of the Life and Work of William 
Shakespeare, pp. 73, 74. New York, 1886. 

2 Lee, A Life of Shakespeare, p. 361. 

85 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

upon rational traditions, during the two centuries mentioned, 
shrink into insignificance when subjected to critical judg- 
ment. The reader is assured that this "mass of detail" is to 
be found fully set forth in this volume. 

Of the "Allusions" four have especially been made the 
theme of commentators. They have marshaled them before 
us with a display of learning intended to silence all cavil, and 
so often and persistently as to awaken in us a doubt of their 
motive, which ostensibly is to enlighten, but the result of 
which has been to blind us to the defects of a shaky thesis. 
Even that true scholar, Edwin Reed, was betrayed into ac- 
cepting one of them as referring to the author of the plays. 
So much stress has been laid upon these particular allusions, 
and they have been used so triumphantly to silence ques- 
tioners, though they really have no true bearing upon the 
question of authorship, that we feel warranted in noticing 
them. This is one: — 

And there, though last not least, is Action; 
A gentler shepheard may no where be found, 
Whose muse, full high of thought's invention, 
Doth, like himselfe, heroically sound. 

Says Lee: — 

It is hardly doubtful that Spenser described Shakespeare in 
"Colin Clout's come home againe (completed in 1594) under the 
name of 'Action,' a familiar Greek proper name derived from 
Aeros, an eagle." 

It no more seems to have occurred to Lee than to his 
predecessors that the name of the Muse as well as that of the 
person eulogized should "heroically sound." ^ Is there any 
one of the Muses, or any one in Greek mythology, — for the 
author of "Colin" might select any mythical deity to serve 
figuratively as an inspirational source, — whose name sounded 
"heroically" like that of the actor.? There is not a single one 

^ It is interesting to note that the Shaksperian scholar White derives the 
name from Jacques Pierre, basing his opinion upon the ancient phonetic form. 

86 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

that can be so associated with him. Even the name of Pallas 
Athene — who is the nearest, since she bore the spear — 
does not sound heroically. Who, then, was intended.'' While 
Bacon was at the French Court it was mourning the loss of 
one of the most beloved of the Pleiade, Remy Belleau, a truly 
gentle shepherd, since he had written the "Bergeries," or 
Sheepfolds, a pastoral treating of the loves of the shepherds; 
moreover, he was not only a shining poet but a splendid 
warrior, and such men were spoken of as being inspired with 
valor by the goddess of war, Bellona, who might properly be 
called his Muse whose name 

Doth like himselfe heroically sound; — 

in fact, is pronounced precisely like it except that in her case 
the feminine terminal is necessarily added. 

That this allusion, which wholly fails to describe the author 
of the "Shakespeare" Works, should have been pressed so 
eagerly into the service of partisans as a prop to their cause, 
is conspicuous evidence of its weakness. The next two which 
have done yeoman service for a century, Lee himself has been 
forced to abandon, though they are still quoted approvingly 
by others, and no doubt will continue to be echoed by careless 
writers for a generation. This is the most familiar: — 

And he, the man whom Nature selfe had made 
To mock her selfe and Truth to imitate. 
With kindly counter under mimick shade, 
Our pleasant Willy, ah! is dead of late.^ 

Says Lee: "There is no ground for assuming that Spenser 
referred figuratively to Shakespeare, when he made Thalia 
deplore the recent death of 'our pleasant Willy.' The name 
Willy was frequently used in contemporary literature as a 
term of familiarity without relation to the baptismal name 
of the person referred to. Sir Philip Sidney was addressed 
as 'Willy' by some of his elegists"; and he concludes that 
Richard Tarleton, "A comic actor 'dead of late' in a literal 

^ Tears of the Muses. 1591. Spenser Folio, 161 1. 
87 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

sense," was the subject of this "allusion." He says "in a 
literal sense" because his predecessors, in order to account 
for the allusion which was written twenty-five years before 
the actor's death, had assumed that "dead of late" was used 
figuratively, as at that time the actor had "probably retired 
from literary work." The reason for this abandonment of a 
cherished bit of fiction is found in the fact that an annotated 
copy of the "Spenser" Folio of 1611 disclosed that the term 
"Willy" was familiarly applied to Tarleton, who was a popu- 
lar favorite, and to the additional fact that he was noted for 
a popular song entitled "Willy," the music of which is still 
preserved. 
The other allusion is this : — 

But that same gentle spirit, from whose pen 
Large streames of honnie and sweete nectar flows — 
Doth rather choose to sit in idle cell 
Than so himselfe to mockerie to sell. 

This, too, which furnishes that faijiiliar adjective "gentle" 
to the object of the Stratfordian adoration, is reluctantly 
abandoned. Says Lee again: — 

Similarly the "gentle spirit," who is described by Spenser in 
a later stanza as sitting "in idle cell" rather than turn his pen 
to base uses, cannot be reasonably identified with Shakespeare.^ 

Of the fourth Lee jubilantly exclaims: — 

At any rate Shakespeare acknowledged acquaintance with 
Spenser's work in a plain reference to his "Teares of the Muses" 
(1591) in "Midsummer Night's Dream" (vi, 52-53): — 

"The thrice three Muses, mourning for the death 
Of learning, late deceased in beggary." 

This has even less to recommend it than the "pleasant 
Willy" allusion has. "Midsummer Night's Dream" was 
written as early as 1594, though it was not registered for pub- 

^ A Life of Shakespeare, p. 80 et seq, Cf. Dictionary of National Biography, 
sub. Tarleton. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

lication until October 8, 1600. Spenser died January 16, 1598 ; 
hence the only possible assumption is that it was interpolated 
fully four years after it was written. This is a wholly unwar- 
ranted assumption. But does it describe Spenser? He was 
always a poor man, it is true, but is it fair to say that he 
"died in beggary" when he refused, just before he died, if 
Drummond in his "Conversations with Ben Jonson" is to be 
credited, "twenty pieces" sent him by Essex .f* 

But we offer this dilemma to our orthodox friends: suppose 
we adopt their assumption that the lines under discussion 
were interpolated late in the year 1600, when the last act was 
being printed, how are we to dispose of Richard Hooker, who 
died November 2 of that year? Who represented learning 
to a greater degree than he of whom it is said, "he stood 
apart"; that "later" ages have looked back to him as "emi- 
nent" even in "the period of Spenser, of Shake-speare and 
Bacon"? Hooker was a man of indefectible humility, wholly 
indifferent to money or position. When visited on one occa- 
sion by Cranmer, he was found "reading Horace and tending 
sheep." He had begged a church living to enable him to pursue 
his benevolent work, and presumably died penniless just after 
his house was robbed. Fortunately, however, it turned out 
that a sum of money had been saved, "which was not got by 
his care, much less by the good housewifery of his wife, but 
saved by his trusty servant, Thomas Lane." ^ 

Hooker's death occurring while "Midsummer Night's 
Dream" was going through the press, would have been noted 
before that of any other contemporary; indeed, it is to "a 
public calamity much talked of" that the orthodox ascribe 
the date of composition of this very play. Certainly it is 
much more reasonable to give Hooker the credit of this al- 
lusion than Spenser, but we need do neither, for to our sur- 
prise we find that no less an orthodox authority than Ebs- 
worth abandons this last Spenser fiction in the following 

^ Isaac Walton, The Lives of Dr. John Donne et als., p. 239. Boston, i860. 

89 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

positive manner: "The 'Thrice three muses' cannot have 
been an allusion to Spenser's 'Tears of the Muses.'" 

Upon such trivialities has a wholly fictitious personality 
been created for the Stratford actor. What will Clelia and 
Thorp and Lee, et id genus omne, do if they can no more apply 
to him the unctuous adjectives of "pleasant" and "gentle," 
and the pet name of "Willy".? They will have left only 
Greene's and Jonson's description of him, imperfect, if you 
please, but far truer than those they have imposed upon 
credulous readers. 

Mr. G. F. Bates finds two instances which he thinks suffi- 
cient to remove all doubt of the actor's authorship, and he 
makes this comment : — 

The Baconians have such an ingenious way of interpreting 
evidence to meet their views, that it would be both curious and 
interesting to know how they would deal with these two cases. ^ 

Let us gratify his curiosity. 

Both are from Thomas Heywood. He quotes first these 
familiar lines : — 

Millifluous Shakespeare, whose enchanting Quill 
Commanded Mirth and Passion, was but Will; 

and then from the "Apology for Actors," published in 1612, 
in which Heywood refers to the "Passionate Pilgrim," first 
published in 1599 under the name "Shakespeare," by the 
"Incorrigible Jaggard," as Lee calls him. In this are two 
poems written by Heywood, and in the "Apology" he says: — 

I must necessarily insert a manifest injury done me in that 
worke by taking the two Epistles of Paris to Helen, and Helen 
to Paris, and printing them — under the name of another, which 
may put the world in opinion I might steale them from him — 
the author I know much offended with M. Jaggard, that (al- 
together unknown to him) presumed to make so bold with his 
name. 

^ London Notes and Queries, vol. xi, p. 493. 1903. 
90 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

With relation to these references Mr. Bates thinks they 
identify the Stratford actor as an author. In the first case we 
have no reason to suppose that Heywood knew anything at 
all about the actor's real connection with the works which 
bore his name. His carelessness is strongly emphasized by 
Phillipps in referring to this very book, the "Passionate 
Pilgrim," in which he says: — 

He does not appear to have examined the volume with any 
degree of care. Had he done so, he would hardly have refrained 
from enhancing his complaint against Jaggard by observing that, 
independently of the two epistles, the latter had also appropriated 
five other poems from the [Heywood's] Troia Britanica.^ 

He also expresses his opinion of the actor's part in the 
transaction in this wise : — 

Although Heywood thus ingeniously endeavours to make it 
appear that his chief objection to the piracy arose from a desire 
to shield himself against a charge of plagiarism, it Is apparent 
that he was highly Incensed at the liberty that had been taken; 
and a new title-page to the Passionate Pilgrim of 1612, from 
which Shakespeare's name was withdrawn was afterwards 
issued. There can be but little doubt that this step was taken 
mainly In consequence of the remonstrances of Heywood ad- 
dressed to Shakespeare, who may certainly have been displeased 
at Jaggard's proceedings, but as clearly required pressure to 
induce him to act In the matter. If the pubHsher would now so 
readily listen to Shakespeare's wishes, It Is difficult to believe 
that he would not have been equally compliant had he been 
expostulated with either at the first appearance of the work In 
1599, or at any period during the following twelve years of its 
circulation. 2 

No, as we have already intimated, he was not displeased, 
for if people wanted to exploit him as an author, he had no 
reason to object; he was benefited by the notoriety such ad- 
vertising gave him; nevertheless, like everything else known 
of him, this quiet acceptance for twelve years of the repute 
this literary piracy yielded, discloses his true character. 

^ Outlines, etc., vol. 11, pp. 296-97. ^ Ihid., vol. i, pp. 237-38. 

91 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

"But," says Mr. W. E. Wilson on Jonson's lines in 1623, 
"To the memory of my beloved, the author, Master William 
Shakespeare, and what he has left us": "As Bacon died in 
1626, how could the last six lines refer to a man who was still 
alive? Here is one of the strongest bits of evidence against 
the whole Baconian theory." 

This is no stranger than what we have already quoted from 
Jonson, even if subject to the interpretation given to the lines 
by Wilson. Jonson wrote them in 1623 to be attached to 
what he knew to be but a part of the so-called "Shakespeare" 
plays ; all, however, which their author, who had so tragically 
finished his public career, chose to leave, and had "left," to 
the world, to which he was figuratively regarded by himself 
and others as dead. But had this not been the case a suffi- 
cient answer would be that Jonson was only carrying out the 
futile task which had been set him of sustaining the pseudo- 
nymity of the plays, so important to Bacon, whose great 
philosophical works were then going through the press. If 
this view is acceptable, we are willing, in order to show how 
worthless such utterances are, to accept Mr. Wilson's own 
witness, Leonard Digges, who also wrote a eulogy for the 
Folio, too rankly false to pass even its complaisant censor. 
We have shown the character of Elizabethan eulogy perhaps 
enough already, but this one is worth noting, and should be 
sufficient to dispose of such effusions as evidence: — 

Next Nature onely helpt him, for looke thorow 

This whole booke, thou shalt find he doth not borrow 

One phrase from Greekes, nor Latines imitate, 

Nor once from vulgar languages translate, 

Nor plagiari-like from others gleane, 

Nor begges he from each witty friend a scene. 

We will not charge Digges with wittingly falsifying to this 
extent, choosing rather to let him off on the score of being 
ignorant of the works in question. Mr. Wilson argues that 
inasmuch as the eulogy of Digges, which he admits was wholly 

92 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

false, was excluded from the Folio, it is good evidence that 
Jonson's eulogy was true. Such logic is unworthy of attention.^ 
After the actor's death a monument was erected to him at 
Stratford by some one unknown, and on it was placed an 
inscription pointing to him as an author. This for a long time 
seemed sufficient evidence, and when the lines on the portrait, 
and eulogy by Jonson were published in 1623, it was but 
reasonable for those who did not know otherwise to suppose 
that the author was reliable authority, and so by many he is 
regarded still as the one witness whose testimony should pass 
unchallenged, both as to the fidelity of the portrait to life, and 
the authorship of the works. We believe that the reader, after 
weighing the evidence here adduced, will not accept him as a 
reliable witness for the defendant. Of course, the monument, 
and every mention of the plays, Stratfordians cite as evidence 
of authorship by the Stratford actor. Mr. Andrew Lang pre- 
sents the typical argument advanced in this jaunty manner: — 

When contemporaries of Shakespeare wrote about Shake- 
speare's plays and poems, they had no reason to add, "We mean 
the plays and poems of Mr. William Shakespeare of My Lord 
of Leicester's servants or of the King's servants." There was 
no other William Shakespeare in the public eye. Everyone con- 
cerned with the stage and literature knew well who William 
Shak — any spelling you please — was. If to-day we wrote of 
our dramatic poets, Mr. Galsworthy and Mr. Shaw, we would 
not waste time on saying what Mr. Galsworthy and Mr. Shaw 
we meant. ^ 

This sounds well, and is a plausible argument in the case, 
but it presupposes conditions which never existed. Up to 
1598, not a single play had been printed which bore the actor's 
name. Says Lee: "The playhouse authorities deprecated the 
publishing of plays in the belief that their dissemination in 
print was injurious to the receipts of the theatre." ^ 

^ London Notes and Queries, vol. xii, p. 35. 1903. 
^ Cornhill Magazine, September, 1912. 
' Lee, J Life of Shakespeare, p. 48. 

93 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

The actor cannot be said to have been in the pubHc eye, 
and "every one concerned with the stage and Uterature" 
could not have known him to be a dramatic author. The 
citation of Galsworthy and Shaw, who are very much in the 
public eye, and well known as authors, seems unfortunate. 

Very few of his contemporaries seem to have known him. 
Of these, Jonson is far more important than all of them 
combined. The reader has witnessed the value of his evidence. 
It is certainly strange, as all his biographers lament, that the 
actor, if he were an author, did not in some way indicate his 
authorship. There was no reason why he should conceal it; 
on the contrary, every inducement why he should not. We 
cannot conceive of a needy young man coming to London 
eager for success, with poems and plays "in his pocket," as 
has been so ridiculously claimed, with no desire to be known, 
especially if his work found favor with theatrical managers 
and publishers. Other literary contemporaries, Heywood, 
Drayton, Nash, Beaumont, Fletcher, and others, who were 
in the public eye, were known and spoken of as authors of the 
works they wrote. No, William Shakspere, the actor, was but 
one of the "men players" and "deserving men," as Cuthbert 
Burbage called him in 1635 in his petition to the Earl of 
Pembroke and others. If he had known him as the author 
of the plays so important to the theater, and a poetic genius, 
it would seem that he would have thought to augment the 
weight of his petition by giving him a more imposing designa- 
tion. It is curious, also, to note that this very Earl of Pem- 
broke is the one whom the actor's biographers identify with 
the mysterious "Mr. W. H." of the "Sonnets," and an inti- 
mate friend of the actor. If this were true, can we imagine 
Burbage using such terms as one of the "men players" and 
"deserving men," if he had been the author of "Hamlet" 
and the "Sonnets" and my lord's familiar friend.? 

But the most important bit of contemporary evidence of 
the insignificance of the actor is afforded by the diary of John 

94 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Manningham. Manningham was a wealthy man of the Inns 
of Court, acquainted with the leading men of his time, and a 
conservator of the gossip afloat in the metropolis. Had the 
actor been patronized at court, or by the men about him, as 
his biographers would have the world believe, Manningham 
would have been the first to record it in his diary. In the 
scandalous story concerning the actor already quoted, Man- 
ningham speaks of Shakspere and Burbage, and, it will be 
remembered, closes his entry with the words, " Shakespeare's 
name, William." 

This was all he knew of this obscure actor; his name was 
"William." Can we conceive of a diarist ending an anecdote 
about the immortal Washington when he was at the height of 
his fame with the information that his name was George? 
This shows that he knew nothing about the actor, and gath- 
ered from his informant that his name was William. This 
lack of knowledge of the "man player," William, is empha- 
sized earlier in his diary when he writes : — 

Febr. 1601. At our feast wee had a play called "Twelve Night, 
or What you Will," much like the Commedy of Errores, or 
Menechme in Plautus, but most like and neere to that in Ital- 
ian called Inganni.^ 

He then describes it, but no mention is made of the actor, 
who we have been told by his biographers, "probably" took 
part in the performance. Had he made any impression upon 
Manningham, or had Manningham known that the actor was 
the author of the play, — and he was one of the best-in- 
formed men in London, — he would have been sure to have 
recorded it; it was just such an item as he wanted. But there 
were other enterprising diarists of that period, and not one 
has mentioned the actor, nor when he died was it noticed, 
nor was a single elegy written about him, although elegists 
were as plentiful and clamorous when occasion offered as rooks 
at even-song. The elegies came when Jaggard wanted them to 

^ Diary of John Manningham, p. 18. Westminster, 1868. 

95 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

sell his "Folio" seven years later, and have done more to 
associate the actor's name with the works than anything else ; 
yet it is about certain that those who wrote them knew little, 
if anything, about him. 

But what shall we think of this from the first Scene ot 
Act V of "As You Like It," first printed in the Folio of 1623, 
though performed several years earlier ? 

To Clowne and Audrie enter William. 

Clo. It is meat, and drinke to me to see a clowne by my troth, we 
that have good wits, have much to answer for; we shall be flouting; 
we cannot hold. 
Will. Good ev'n, Audrey. 
And. God ye good ev'n, William. 
Will. And good ev'n to you sir. {removing his hat.) 
Clo. Good ev'n gentle friend. Cover thy head; cover thy head; 
Nay prethee bee cover'd. How olde are you, Friend.^ 
Will. Five and twentie, Sir. 

Clo. A ripe age; Is thy name William? 
Will. William, Sir. 

Clo. A f aire name. Was't borne i' the Forrest here?^ 
Will. I Sir, I thanke God. 
Clo. Thanke God; A good answer; Art rich? 
Will. 'Faith Sir, so, so. 
Clo. So, so, is very good, very good, very excellent good; and yet it is 
not, it is but so, so; Art thou wise? 
Will. I Sir, I have a prettie wit. 
Clo. Why, thou saist well. I do now remember a saying: The Foole 
doth thinke he is wise but the wise man knowes himselfe to be a 
Foole — You do love this maid? 
Will. I do Sir. 

Clo. Give me vour hand: art thou learned? 
Will. No Sir. 

Does this refer to the actor ? Mr. Lawrence calls attention 
to the ejaculation "Thank God," the same used by Sogliardo 
in Ben Jonson's play, which he thinks was a characteristic 
expression of the Stratford actor; also to the questions, "Art 
thou rich?" and the reply, "So so," as he was not rich in any 
true sense, and, "Art thou learned?" as well as the phrase, 

^ The Forest of Arden. 

96 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

"Pretty wit," so often applied to the actor, and the term 
"gentle" addressed to him, as implying that he possessed the 
heraldic insignia of a gentleman. There might be a difficulty 
in identifying the actor with the character of William, did we 
reflect that he must have known that it referred to him if it 
were in the play, and he acted in it ; but this difficulty vanishes 
when we remember his biographers' portrayal of him; be- 
sides, there is no evidence that he ever acted in it. Of course 
it might be replied that Somers, Henry the Eighth's fool, was 
called Will, but this would be too far-fetched to serve as a 
reasonable objection. 

THE QUARTOS 

To acquire a fair knowledge of the status of Shaksperian 
criticism, one should study the Quartos in connection with the 
Folios. Facsimiles of these have been reproduced by photo- 
lithography. They were originally printed for popular use. 
These Quartos ^ have been the cause of endless controversy. 
But thirteen plays in the Folio bearing the actor's name were 
published in quarto during his life. These were : — 



1598 


1603-04 


Love's Labours Lost 


Hamlet 


1600 


1608 


Henry IV 


Richard II 


Midsummer Night's Dream 


Lear 


Much Ado about Nothing 




Merchant of Venice 


1609 




Troilus and Cressida 


1602 


Pericles 


Richard III 


Romeo and Juliet (Undated. 


Merry Wives of Windsor 


Most copies anonymous.) 



These had been preceded by the following anonymous 
Quartos : — 

^ The Quartos were originally sold for a few pennies; a copy of the rarest 
of them was priced on a recent catalogue at five hundred pounds. 

97 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 



I59I 


1597 


The Troublesome Reign of King 


Richard II 


John 


Richard III 


1594 


1598 


Taming of a Shrew 


Henry IV (ist part) 


The Contention, ist part (2d part 


Romeo and Juliet (2d Ed.) 


of Henry VI) 


Famous Victories 




Henry V 


1595 




True Tragedy (3d part Henry VI) 


1600 


Romeo and Juliet 


Titus Andronicus 



Many of these plays, had they not been collected and pub- 
lished together at the right moment, would be masquerading 
to-day under the names of men who never knew them, for 
our modern oracles have taken high-handed liberties in ac- 
cording unclaimed literary property to whomsoever they 
would. How could they do otherwise? Working under 
limitations which restricted them to the narrowest fields of 
thought, they have done as well as we ought to expect. What 
different results \\ould have been accomplished, could the 
one to whom they have devoted their energies been a man 
proficient in the learning of his day; wise in its use; noble 
in his life; a literary laborer; and, especially, known as such 
early enough to have been the author of "The Contention," 
the "old" "Henry VI," or the "old" "Hamlet," and other 
"old" plays which they have been forced, by the limitations 
which have constrained them, to assign to incapable men, who 
had a modicum of learning, and scribbled early enough to 
have them foisted upon them without raising the question of 
alibi. 

Does any one doubt, who has read these little Quartos, 
that had Ben Jonson, for instance, been the son of John 
Shakspere, your Stratfordian devotee would contend with 
much flourish of scholarship that they were the immature 
works of a young author, pieces of his dead self on which he 
climbed to higher things, who, later, revised and improved; 

98 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

in other words, made them what they are to-day ? Probably 
not ; nor would it be necessary for Robertson, Lee, and other 
partisans, who have seen the fatal weakness of their prede- 
cessors, to contend that the wide knowledge displayed in the 
plays has been misunderstood hitherto, and that it is no more 
than what an unlearned but fairly bright man might have 
acquired from the common stock of learning of his time, a 
theory disproved by history and experience. 

THE FOLIOS 

Among the mass of plays which were in existence when 
Heminge and Condell are supposed to have collected those 
published in the First Folio of 1623, it is a pregnant question, 
still mooted, which of them were or were not written by the 
author of the "Shakespeare" Works. The first appearance 
of the name, Shakespeare, appears in the dedication to 
Southampton of the "Venus and Adonis," "The first heir of 
my invention," in 1593, which White assumes the actor had 
about him when he left Stratford. He says, "With 'Venus 
and Adonis' written, if nothing else, — but I think it not 
unlikely a play^ — Shakespeare went to London and sought 
a patron." ^ How such an assumption can be reconciled with 
the personality of the man whom he is forced to describe, as 
all his biographers have been, must be left to the reader to 
decide. But he goes farther, and buttresses this assumption 
with another; the "natural inclination to poetry (?) and act- 
ing which Aubrey tells us he possessed, had been stimulated 
by the frequent visits of companies of players to Stratford." 
It may seem to "literary antiquaries" diflricult to identify 
the divine afiiatus which inspired the "Venus and Adonis" 
with anything displayed before leaving Stratford, yet Collins 
and some others seem to find it easy. Is it possible that the 
play, which V/hite and Collins assume he carried with "Venus 
and Adonis" to London, was "Hamlet," the greatest of the 

^ White, The Works of William Shakespeare, p. xlix. 

99 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

plays, or "Titus Andronicus," or "Pericles," or several 
others which commentators have assumed were his earliest 
works, because of their display of immaturity? The refuge 
of the earlier biographers was in the assumption of the exist- 
ence of two plays of the same name, the earlier one being by 
some unknown author; but our later critics, since this position 
has become untenable, think it wise to assume that the un- 
trained genius of the actor enabled him to produce great 
poems and plays " saturated with learning," as Furnivall says, 
while leading the life which his biographers ascribe to him. 
In any case the admission of the actor's early authorship is 
fatal. 

The next year after the appearance of "Venus and Adonis " ; 
that is, in 1594, "Lucrece" was published with a dedication 
also signed, "William Shakespeare." Up to the time of these 
poems nothing had been published which connected the name 
"Shakespeare" with its authorship, and the first allusion to 
the name as that of an author occurs in this year.^ A number 
of plays, however, had been acted upon the stage previous to 
this date, several being among those printed in the Folio of 
1623, which since then has been the sole authority for their 
authorship. This authority has been accepted because the 
editors, Heminge and Condell, were Shakspere's fellow actors, 
and supposed to have possessed as well as anybody, except 
perhaps Henslowe, theatrical manager and buyer of plays, 
a knowledge of the authorship of the works they claimed to 
have collected "to procure his orphanes guardians," and "to 
keepe the memory of so worthy a friend and fellow alive." 

The naivete with which they declare their unselfish de- 
votion to these ends is touching; at the same time they advise 
prospective purchasers of the book, "him that can but spell 
— to read and censure"; but to "buy it first." This is more 
businesslike, if less pathetic, and when we find that some of 

^ Willobie His Avisa. London, 1594; reprint, Charies Hughes, p. 15, London, 
1904. 

100 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

the most appealing gems of the preface upon which biogra- 
phers have so sympathetically animadverted were in the style 
of Jonson, who, Steevens advises us, wrote the entire preface, 
as well as the lines to the actor's memory, repeating in it 
some of his familiar expressions, the fervor of our emotion 
subsides, and we are disposed to read it more carefully. The 
play editors by their mouthpiece first say that they have be- 
stowed great "care and pains" in "collecting" the plays, and 
later they make this puzzling admission: "His mind and hand 
went together, and what he thought he uttered with that 
easiness that we have scarce received from him a blot in his 
papers," which implies that the manuscripts were in his own 
handwriting, and that they had received them from him. If 
this is true the plays were all printed from the original manu- 
scripts, and not from the Quartos published earlier, which the 
preface tells us were "maimed and deformed by the frauds 
and stealthes of injurious imposters," while the new Folio 
exposed them to view "perfect in their limbes," and "abso- 
lute in their numbers as he conceived them." ^ Yet Pope says 
that "the Folio, as well as the Quartos, was printed — at least 
partly — from no better copies than the Prompter s Book, or 
Piece-meal Parts , written out for the use of the actors; for in 
some places their very names are thro' carelessness set down 
instead of the Personcz Dramatis, as enter Claudio and Jack 
Wilson instead of Balthasar." ^ 

These statements cannot be satisfactorily reconciled. The 
fact is that many of these plays were really printed from the 
"maimed and deformed" Quartos. The truth of the "blot" 
story, which, by the way, is but a repetition of the gossip of 
players which Jonson had already related, is effectually dis- 
posed of by a glance at the actor's signatures. What the play- 
ers saw, if the story were true, must have been the scrivener's 
copies. Perhaps the best way to reconcile these statements 

^ Folio, 1623. Address of Heminge and Condell. 

* Pope, The Works of Shakespeare, vol. i, p. xvii. London, 1725. 

lOI 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

is to regard them either as the verbose elements of an adver- 
tisement, written after the style of the professional show- 
man, careless of precise verities if they but serve to stimulate 
patronage, or more or less veiled statements of facts known 
to the writer of the preface. 

But how were Heminge and Condell sure of the authorship 
of the plays they had collected, or that their collection was 
complete? It is wholly improbable that the actor, with his 
keen eye to property rights, would have given them manu- 
scripts possessing a considerable money value to use as they 
pleased, and certainly his daughters, whom his biographers 
like to represent as having inherited their father's business 
shrewdness, would not have done so. There is nothing to 
show that they were sure of either, or solicitous about being 
so. Lee says that they "were nominally responsible for the 
venture, but it seems to have been suggested by a small syn- 
dicate of printers and publishers, who undertook all pecuni- 
ary responsibility. Chief of the syndicate was William Jag- 
gard — the piratical publisher. In 1613, he had extended his 
business by purchasing the stock and rights of a rival pirate, 
James Roberts." ^ If we adopt this statement, and we do not, 
as it is purely imaginative, except the purchase by Jaggard of 
Roberts, which exhibits him as a growing and enterprising 
publisher, we get no clearer view of the conditions surround- 
ing the production of the Folio, and still realize the perplexing 
character of the preface; but we should not hold Heminge 
and Condell responsible for this. Their part in the work was 
merely nominal. Had they initiated it and gathered the manu- 
scripts for the benefit of the actor's orphans, and to keep his 
name alive, as Phillipps and others have believed, too great 
praise could not be accorded them ; but this, it is evident, they 
did not do. Even the "Epistle Dedicatorie" is a translation 
from the preface to Pliny's "Natural Historie"; strong evi- 
dence of their irresponsibility for the work. Certainly some 

^ Lee, A Life of Shakespeare, p. 303. 
102 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

one was responsible for it, and for the large additions to some 
of the plays, as well as those hitherto unknown. The financial 
responsibility, too, was great. The very limited demand for 
such a work would have deterred any publisher from under- 
taking it without an adequate subscription list, or guarantee 
against loss; besides, it was evidently hurried through the 
press at almost reckless cost, which no prudent publisher 
would have done. This is shown by the signatures which were 
the work of different publishing houses, and we can but be- 
lieve that some one was behind the undertaking pushing it 
forward with feverish haste, disregardful of the cost. Steevens 
states that the edition of the book was limited to two hundred 
and fifty copies, and Lee that the price of it was but one pound. 
It is now believed that five hundred copies were printed. We 
may well pause to inquire who was financially responsible 
for the Folio.? We cannot reasonably believe that Jaggard 
and Company were. It is more reasonable to suppose that 
it was the man who reveals so evidently to us his interest in 
the works by the additions made to them, whose style is 
unquestionably that of their original author, and who added 
to the last Quartos printed from 1619 to 1622, as follows: to 
the "Merry Wives of Windsor" 1081 lines, and rewrote por- 
tions of the text; to "Henry V" (part 2), 1139 new lines, a 
new title, and emended 2000 lines ; to part 3 of the same play, 
906 new lines, and a new title ; to " King John, " 1 100 new lines, 
and a new scene; to "Richard III," 193 new lines, and 
emended nearly 2000 more; to "Othello," 160 new lines, and 
alterations in the text. In any case, we cannot accept the 
terms applied to Heminge and Condell by the editor of the 
Cambridge edition of the "Shakespeare" Works, who accuses 
them not only of making false statements, but calls them 
"unscrupulous," "discredited," "knaves," and "imposters"; 
rather an unnecessary display of heat, even by the editor of 
the Canon, at loss of support for his unfortunate postulate. 
Though Lee says that "as a specimen of typography the 

103 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

First Folio is not to be commended — the misprints are 
numerous, and are especially conspicuous in the pagination," 
Mr. Smedley as plainly asserts that it "will be found to be 
one of the most perfect examples of the printer's art extant, 
because no work has been produced under such difficult con- 
ditions for the printer. — The mispaginations are all inten- 
tional and have cryptic meanings"; and he calls attention 
especially to the second book of Bacon's "Advancement of 
Learning" as a conspicuous example of intentional mispagina- 
tion: "30 is numbered 33, from 31 to 70 the numbering is cor- 
rect, and then the leaves are numbered as follows: 70, 70, 72, 
74, 73, 74, 75, 69, 77, 78, 79, 80, 77, 74, 74, 69, 69, 82, 87, 79, 
89, 91 " ; and so on to the end. It is impossible to attribute 
this mispagination to the printer's carelessness." ^ 

Up to the date of the Folio, but twenty of the plays it con- 
tained had been published. The plays contained in the Folio 
are as follows : — 

"Romeo and Juliet"; "Love's Labours Lost"; "I and II 
King Henry IV"; "Much Ado about Nothing"; "Merchant 
of Venice"; "Midsummer Night's Dream"; and "Troilus 
and Cressida." These had been printed in quarto form, and 
appear in the Folio with but few changes. 

"The Two Gentlemen of Verona"; "III King Henry VI " ; 
"Comedy of Errors"; "All's Well that Ends Well"; "As You 
Like It"; "Twelfth Night"; "Measure for Measure"; "An- 
tony and Cleopatra"; "Macbeth"; "Cymbeline"; "Winter's 
Tale"; "Julius Caesar"; and "The Tempest." These had not 
been printed. 

"King John"; "I and II King Henry VI"; "Taming of 
the Shrew"; "King Richard 11" and "King Richard III"; 
"King Henry V"; "Titus Andronicus"; "Merry Wives of 
Windsor"; "Hamlet"; "King Lear"; "Othello." These were 
printed except the last during the actor's life, but appear 
in the Folio much changed. " Coriolanus," first mentioned 

^ William T. Smedley, The Mystery of Francis Bacon, p. 123. London, 1912. 

104 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

in an elegy to Burbage in 1619, "Timon of Athens," and 
"King Henry VIH" appeared first in the Folio. 

But there were other plays not in the Canon which bore the 
same evidence of having been written by the author of those 
which it included, and one at least was admitted to it ; namely, 
"Titus Andronicus," which has been rejected by many of the 
critics. Anent this, Phillipps remarks that if we do not ac- 
cept the authority of the editors of the Folio, "we shall be 
launched on a sea with a chart in which are unmarked perilous 
quicksands of intuitive opinions. Especially is the vessel it- 
self in danger if it touches the insidious bank raised up from 
doubts on the authenticity of 'Titus Andronicus'";^ and he 
makes an excellent plea in its favor; but others have made 
quite as good ones against it, and the matter is still unsettled. 
Later, Phillipps changed his mind and said, "I do not really 
believe that Shakespeare wrote a single line of it." ^ 

Enough has been said to give a fairly clear idea of the Folio. 
The actor, as far as known, was never identified with any of 
the plays it contains except by hearsay, and by the appear- 
ance of the name "William Shake-speare," or " Shakespeare" ; 
"W. Sh." or "W.S." on the title-pages of several Quartos, 
and subsequently of the name on that of the Folio. It is a 
striking fact that this name is not found in the Stationers* 
Register, but a more remarkable one that it is not found in a 
vitally interesting record, or diary, that still survives, in which, 
had he been an author or playwright, his name should cer- 
tainly have appeared. This diary is so important that it 
demands our especial attention. 

henslowe's diary 

Philip Henslowe, to whom allusion has been made, was 
a theatrical proprietor and patron of playwrights. During 
the most active period of the Stratford actor's career, from 

* Phillipps, Outlines, etc., vol. i, p. 293. 

* Phillipps, Memoranda, p. 76. Brighton, 1879. 

105 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

1 591 to 1609, he kept a record of his transactions with these 
playwrights. This "Diary," so-called, was found in 1790 by 
Malone at Dulwich College, founded by Alleyn, a partner 
of Henslowe, and has since been printed.^ It is of a most 
interesting character, since in it appears the name of nearly 
every dramatic writer of any note, with the signatures and 
handwriting of many, and, most important of all, the titles 
of the plays which were written for, or purchased by him. 
Among these are many of the plays printed in the Folio, but 
in the "Diary" we look in vain for the Stratford actor's name, 
which causes Furness sadly to remark, "Where the names of 
nearly all the dramatic poets of the age are to be frequently 
found, we might certainly count on finding that of Shake- 
speare, but the shadow in which Shakespeare's early life was 
spent envelopes him here too, and his name is not met with 
in any part of the manuscript"; ^ yet Phillipps remarks that 
for a considerable period the actor " had written all his dramas 
for Henslowe." ^ If so, why did not Henslowe mention the 
name of the author of these plays as he did in other cases.? 
No wonder that the actor's biographers have been put to 
their wits' end to give some plausible reason, and have failed, 
though a reason is not far to seek. He enjoyed the notoriety 
which the association of his name with these works gave him. 
He neither denied nor affirmed that he was their author. 
Other writers palmed off their plays upon the public under 
his name, or one so like it in sound as to pass for it, but he 
made no complaint. They were played by the company of 
which he was a member, and he doubtless took minor parts in 
them. The more advertising in this way the better for his in- 
terest ; certainly, this is a fair deduction from the biographies 
of him which we possess. 

^ Shakespeare Society, London, 1845. Cf. Peter Cunningham, jBx^r<3Cij- /row 
the Accounts of the Revels at Court. London, 1842. 

2 Horace Howard Furness, Ph.D., LL.D., A New Variorum Edition of 
Shakespeare, vol. 11, Appendix. Philadelphia, 1877. 

^ Phillipps, Outlines, etc., vol. i, p. 109. 

106 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 



But there were plays in the FoHo which the "Diary" in- 
forms us were written by others, and here, perhaps, it is best 
to note the fact that Henslowe sometimes employed several 
writers to construct or arrange a play for the stage, perhaps 
in order to hasten its production, as appears by this entry in 
his "Diary": — 

Lent unto the companye the 22 of May 1602, to geve unto 
Antoney Monday, Mikell Drayton, Webester, Mydehon and the 
rest, in earnest of a Booke called Sesers Falle the some of five 
pounds. 

This raises a troublesome question. Was this the Folio play 
of "Julius Caesar"? Collier, the editor of the "Diary," says 
this play, written in 1602, was produced on the stage in 1603 ; 
but the "Mirror of Martyrs," by John Weever, published in 
1 601, has these lines: — 

The many headed multitude were drawne 
By Brutus Speech, that Ccesar was ambitious 
When eloquent Mark Antonie had showne 
His vertues.^ 

This allusion was seized upon to account for a perplexing 
dilemma. There must have been, it was said, two plays of 
"Julius Caesar," the play in the Folio, and the play written 
for Henslowe in 1602. The first, it was said, was based upon 
Plutarch's "Lives," which is devoid of a funeral oration by 
Mark Antony, therefore, the oration in that play was original 
with its author, and identified him with it; while Henslowe 's 
play, no doubt based upon the same authority, and now sup- 
posed to have been conveniently lost, was presumably without 
the oration. Unfortunately for this theory, a rare work, 
printed, in 1578, afforded Weever a ready source for his allu- 
sion, and discredits the assumption that he referred to the 
play. In this work is the funeral oration by Mark Antony 
which furnished the crude elements subsequently transformed 

^ C. M. Ingleby, LL.D., Shakespeare'' s Centurie of Prayse, p. 42. London, 
1879. 

107 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

in the alembic of genius into a thing of beauty. In it Antony 
reads the will and moves the multitude by the statement that 
Caesar had adopted Brutus, and made the people his heirs. 
As he read each clause, "Antony turned his face and his hand 
toward Caesar's corpse illustrating his discourse by action." 
He spoke "in a kind of divine frenzy and then lowered his 
voice to a sorrowful tone and mourned and wept." ^ 

Were there, then, two plays of "Julius Caesar," the earlier 
being the Folio play written previous to 1601, and the later 
one written for Henslowe for the purpose of competing with 
it, as is claimed, but which mysteriously disappeared ? If so, 
why was Henslowe's play the only one entered for license 
previous to the printing of the Folio twenty-one years later.? 
The readiest explanation would seem to be that Henslowe's 
"Julius Caesar" was that of the Folio, created by the art of 
an unparalleled genius, and to meet an emergency hastily ar- 
ranged for the stage by expert playwrights, who may have in- 
troduced some minor lines in the least important parts of the 
dialogue. We can hardly go so far, however, as Sir Edward 
Clarke, who says : — 

Of the 350 lines of the 5 scenes of the last act of Julius Caesar 
no fewer than 336 are the clumsy work of another hand, at a 
dead level of dulness, without a single gleam of elevation of 
thought, or distinction of phrase. 

On the other hand, Justin McCarthy and Beerbohm Tree 
refute this. 

PLAYS EXCLUDED FROM FIRST FOLIO 

There is ample evidence that the actor became identified 
with plays of which he had the handling, and, as he had skill 
in placing them upon the stage, the public naturally came to 
speak of plays, the exhibition of which this able factotum 
supervised, as "Shakespeare" plays, and ran to see them in 

^ Horace White, M.A., LL.D., The Roman History of Appian of Alexandria, 
vol. II, pp. 198-200. London, 1899. 

108 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

preference to others not so attractive. This accounts for the 
allusions to them by writers of the period, who knew noth- 
ing and cared nothing about their real authorship. Such a 
man would be a godsend to a writer who desired to preserve 
anonymity, and at the same time secure publicity for his 
productions, and what a ready solution he would offer for 
the fact over which the actor's biographers have wondered 
and lamented, that though inferior plays were published under 
his name by others he made no complaint. Why should he.^" 
He knew the authors ; they were good fellows, or in a higher 
rank than he, influential and helpful to his accumulation of 
the wealth which he coveted in common with the world at 
large. This is quite in keeping with, and not derogatory to, 
the man as his biographers reveal him to us. Certainly no 
one will question the fact that writers used his name as the 
author of their works, not only with his knowledge, but with- 
out objection from him. 

As before remarked, not a single play or book of any kind 
was ever entered for license on the Stationers' Register in the 
name of the actor; but the "copy," so-called, was in all the 
cases we have named entered by others. The especial object 
of the license was to enable the censors to perform the duty 
assigned them, thus preventing the publication of writings in- 
jurious to the Government. The license gave the owner the 
right to publish, and this right could be assigned at any time. 
Had Jaggard and Blount possessed the privilege of printing 
more plays bearing the actor's name, they might have printed 
a larger number ; or, if written by an author who desired to 
remain unknown, he might have controlled their selection. 
It should be noted that when the Folio was published, six- 
teen of the plays were entered by Jaggard and Blount as 
" soe manie of the said Copies as are not formerly entered to 
other men." This is a significant fact worthy of the reader's 
attention. Of the plays omitted called "doubtful," ^ "Peri- 

^ William Hazlitt, The Doubtful Plays of William Shakespeare, London, n.d. 

109 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

cles" has been admitted into the Canon, while "Titus An- 
dronicus," vouched for by the editors of the FoHo, is still 
strenuously disputed by most critics. 

But what other plays existed during the actor's life, some if 
not all of which were performed by the company to which 
he belonged, and which, though not written by him, bore 
his name or initials, and were popularly known as "Shake- 
speare" plays? This inquiry will show that he permitted 
writers to use his name to promote his interest, and from 
what his biographers tell us, can we doubt that it was a 
pecuniary one ? 

SECOND, THIRD, AND FOURTH FOLIOS 

The First Folio of 1623 having become scarce, a Second 
Folio was printed in 1632, and was a duplicate of the First 
with a few unimportant corrections of the text. But the ques- 
tion of other plays which were also known as "Shakespeare" 
plays had been discussed, and Heminge and Condell's seem- 
ingly arbitrary selection was considered too narrow. Why, it 
was asked, were not more of the "Shakespeare" plays in- 
cluded in the First Folio.? In 1663, a Third Folio, a duplicate 
of the Second, was printed, and reissued the following year 
with seven of the ignored plays. On the title-page the ques- 
tioning public is informed that 

Under this impression are added seven Plays never before 
printed in Folio, viz: — 

Pericles; London Prodigal; Thomas Lord Cromwell; Sir John 
Oldcastle; The Puritan Widow; A Yorkshire Tragedy, and 
Locrine. 

A large portion of this edition was destroyed in the Great 
Fire of 1666, and it is now a rare book. In 1685 the Fourth 
Folio was printed. It was a duplication of the Third except 
that the spelling was modernized. Thus it is seen that the 
later Folios have seven plays selected from a larger number 
which, during the actor's life, were known as "Shakespeare" 

no 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

plays. Few modern readers of the works, however, are ac- 
quainted with them. There were other so-called "Shake- 
speare" plays, namely: "Arden of Feversham," published 
in 1584; "The Arraignment of Paris," 1584; "The Birth of 
Merlin," 1662; "The Two Noble Kinsmen," 1634; "Car- 
denio," acted as early as 1610, first printed in 1653; "The 
Double Falsehood," first published by Theobald in 1728, as 
"written originally by W. Shakespeare," and which, we are 
told, "according to tradition" was written by the actor for 
"a natural daughter of his — in the time of his retirement 
from the stage." ^ "Duke Humphrey," by "Will: Shak- 
speare," registered 1660; "Eurialus and Lucretia," registered 
as a work of " Shakespear," 1683; "Fair Em," published in 
163 1, found in a collection of plays belonging to Charles H, and 
lettered "Shakespear"; "George a Green," acted in 1593, 
published 1599; "Henry First and Second," by "Will Shake- 
spear and Rob. Davenport," registered, 1653. "Iphis and 
lantha," by "Will: Shakspeare," 1660: "The Merry Devil of 
Edmonton," mentioned in 1604, registered, 1607; "Muce- 
dorus," printed, 1598; and "Oldrastes and the Second Maid- 
en's Tragedy," registered, 161 1; "The History of King 
Stephen," by "Will: Shakespeare," registered, 1660: "King 
Edward Second, Third and Fourth," 1595. 

From this it will be seen that the editors of the First Folio, 
out of at least sixty-four plays popularly known as " Shake- 
speare" plays, published a little over half, or thirty-six. These 
plays were on the stage in the actor's lifetime, many bore his 
name on their title-pages, and their authorship was tacitly 
acknowledged by him. Certainly this presents a condition 
of affairs hardly consonant with modern methods, and throws 
a flood of light upon the actor's relations to a large number of 
the plays of his time which passed under his name, but in 
which his only interest was in getting them properly before 
the patrons of the theater. Phillipps, reflecting upon the 

^ Phillipps, Outlines, etc., p. 194. Ed. 1882. 
Ill 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

strange fact that he made no objection to the use of his name 
by others, makes these remarks when treating of the "Pas- 
sionate Pilgrim," and "Sir John Oldcastle": — 

It is extremely improbable that Shakespeare, in that age of 
small London and few publishers, could have been ignorant of 
the use made of his name in the first edition of the Passionate 
Pilgrim. — There was, it is true, no legal remedy, but there is 
reason for believing that, in this case, at least, a personal re- 
monstrance would have been effective. 

And — 

Owing, perhaps, to the apathy exhibited by Shakespeare on 
this occasion, a far more remarkable operation in the same kind 
of knavery was perpetrated in the latter part of the following 
year by the publisher of the First Part of the Life of Sir John 
Oldcastle.^ 

The real fact would seem to be that there was no knavery 
at all in the transaction. The actor's name was his capital, 
and his permission of its use was profitable to him. This is a 
much simpler explanation than is disclosed by tiresome pages 
of argument expended in idle wonder over a very simple trans- 
action. By placing the man whom his biographers describe 
in his true position, the untangling of an otherwise impossible 
snarl is easily accomplished. 

BLIND GUIDES 

But perhaps the most significant problem is presented to 
us in the early authorship of several of the plays in the First 
Folio. 

We have followed the actor to London, seen him a drudge 
in the stables and theater of the Burbages, where he became 
their factotum, or man of all work, by good humor and a 
ready hand ; useful in arranging the staging of the plays, and 
taking minor parts in them. Later we have seen him through 
the eyes of contemporaries, coarse, dissolute, and grasping, 

^ Phillipps, Outlines, etc., vol. I, pp. 179-80. 
112 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

one whose position made him a convenient intermediary be- 
tween his employers and needy playwrights who were glad 
to let their productions pass under his name as the readiest 
means of reaching the pubUc. Here we are brought face to 
face with the question of early authorship. It seems evident 
that some of the plays which were subsequently accredited 
to him were in existence when he arrived in London. Owing 
to indifference and uncritical judgment, the easy theory that 
he was the author of the plays with which his name had been 
associated, and later, those only which were gathered into the 
Folio of 1623, obtained a standing and final adoption as his 
by the uncritical Rowe, and the ambitious, active, and none 
too scrupulous Steevens and Malone, and when the breezy 
Garrick aroused the popular enthusiasm their crazy craft of 
theory was launched. 

Fortunately for the world, among the things with which 
it was freighted was Hemlnge and Condell's Folio, and the 
Quartos. These when examined by the critics caused trouble. 
The pseudo-editors of the Folio, who had no more to do with 
the book than the actor had with the plays it contained, were 
roundly rated for their misleading statements which unneces- 
sarily complicated a sufficiently troublesome matter. 

The evident earllness of some of the plays, the remarkable 
literary character and wide learning which they displayed, 
were disturbing. The first, they realized, it would be fatal 
to acknowledge, and so they flatly denied that they were the 
same plays, but plagiarized versions of earlier plays of the 
same name, furbished and improved by the actor's assumed 
genius ; an assumption of which they made excellent use in 
accounting for the other difficulties in their way — their literary 
character and display of learning. It was easy to assert that 
these old plays were lost. Two were triumphantly brought 
forth, the "Taming of a Shrew" and the "Hamlet" of 1603 ; 
but these proved to be boomerangs. They were impressions 
of such copies as Hemlnge and Condell denominated "maimed 

113 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

and deformed by the frauds and stealthes of injurious im- 
posters," but which they, "pious fellowes," pubhshed "per- 
fect in their Hmbes, and absolute in their numbers," as their 
author "conceived them." No, among the hundreds of old 
plays which survived, not one of these particular old plays 
existed. They were never "conceived," much less born. If 
asked when the actor became a great linguist, scientist, his- 
torian, lawyer, theological expert, courtier, not to mention 
poet and philosopher, they unblushingly replied, " During the 
five years in which he was not publicly mentioned." Why 
should this poor hostler and theatrical man of all work have 
sufficiently attracted the attention of those in power to be 
mentioned? Men struggling for an honest living in his class 
were not likely to attract such public recognition in Tudor 
times. Having called attention to the dilemma in which Strat- 
fordian critics found, and still find, themselves, we propose to 
bring their acknowledged experts before the High Court of 
Common Sense for examination, who — especially Lee with 
his jack-in-the-box, Kyd, and curiously autocratic voice, 
and the "monumental scholar," Furness, who for nearly 
forty years disturbed the black-lead market by his demand 
for pencils to write his multitudinous notes — will be sure to 
amuse the reader. Their testimony will well illustrate the 
remark made by a former Harvard president, that a fault in 
the premise always conspicuously reappears in the conclusion. 

We will suppose the court convened, our readers empan- 
eled as jurors, and the experts qualified as witnesses. We 
name as we proceed various plays, and in each case ask the 
witnesses to tell us what they know about it. We name first 

Titus Andronicus, which has occasioned so much dis- 
cussion, some vehemently attacking, and others, with equal 
vehemence, defending its claim to a place in the Canon. There 
is a record by Henslowe of a production of this play on Jan- 
uary 23, 1594, and later it was entered anonymously on the 
Register for publication with a ballad, included subsequently 

114 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

in Percy's "Reliques." Its authorship, however, was much 
earher. Ben Jonson, no later than 1613, wrote that it had 
"stood still" on the stage for twenty-five or thirty years. 
Taking 161 3 as the starting point, this would place its date 
between 1583-88. It was based, says Phillipps, by its author 
on the 

repulsive tale of . . . the Tamora and Andronici, and his earliest 
play ... it was not regarded as out of the pale of the legitimate 
drama by the most cultivated, otherwise, so able a scholar and 
critic as Meres would hardly have inserted its title amongst those 
of the noteworthy tragedies of Shakespeare.^ 

Says Upton: — 

The whole play of "Titus Andronicus" should be flung out of 
the list of Shakespeare's Works. 

Referring to Ben Jonson's statement, he continues: — 

Consequently, "Andronicus" must have been on the stage 
before Shakespeare left Warwickshire to come and reside in 
London, so that we have all the evidence, both internal and 
external, to vindicate our poet from this bastard issue. ^ 

Had Upton foreseen the bearing of this admission he never 
would have ventured to make it. 
Lee says : — 

"Titus Andronicus" was in his own lifetime claimed for Shake- 
speare.^ 

And, basing his opinion upon Ravenscroft's statement 
that it was delivered to the theater by an unknown author, 
repudiates it, and, though not original in this, suggests Kyd 
as its author. We shall see what a convenient scapegoat has 
been made of the mythical Kyd. Lee has especially laid 
upon him the sins of anonymous authorship ; but this is not 

^ Phillipps, Outlines, etc., vol. i, p. no. 

* John Upton, Critical Observations on Shakespeare, pp. 288, 289. London, 
1798. 

^ Lee, A Life of Shakespeare, p. 65. London, 1898. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

enough; he must have an orthodox genealogy, and one has 
been furnished based upon identity of name, a method that 
Colonel Chester or Fitz Waters would regard with a smile, 
especially the latter whose amusing story of his troubles with 
the unusual name of Rose Raysing is one of the writer's un- 
fading memories. 
Says Collier: — 

We feel no hesitation in assigning "Titus Andronicus" to 
Shakespeare. 

And he points out 

the remarkable indications of skill and power in an unpracticed 
dramatist; as a poetical production it has not hitherto had jus- 
tice done it on account partly of the revolting nature of the plot. 
It was undoubtedly one of his earliest, if not his very earliest 
dramatic production.^ 

An eminent German critic remarks that 

Almost all English commentators are agreed that Shakespeare 
for aesthetic reasons cannot have been the author of this drama. 

Referring to the early date of the play, in which he agrees 
with Hertzberg and Ulrici, he calls attention to the ballad 
before mentioned which, he says, — 

was undoubtedly written after Shakespeare's drama. The date 
of the origin of the play is supported not only by the most impor- 
tant internal characteristics, but also an allusion in the introduc- 
tion to Ben Jonson's "Bartholomew Fair," which Englishmen, 
for no reason, refer to a non-Shakespearean drama. 

And he presses his point in this wise : — 

It would be unreasonable forthwith to reject as absurd the 
supposition that "Titus Andronicus" was written before Shake- 
speare left Stratford.^ 

^ J. Payne Collier, Esq., F.S.A., The Works of Shakespeare, vol. vi, pp. 205, 
206. New York, 1853. 

2 Karl Elze, Ph.D., Essays on Shakespeare, pp. 60, 66, 348-49. London, 
1894. 

116 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

And again, — 

Some commentators, with much less probability, assign the 
first beginning of the "Sonnets" to the period before the poet 
quitted home.^ 

The author of the University edition, however, admits 
its early authorship and accredits it to Shakespeare: he 
says, — 

We may infer that In 1614, only one play currently known as 
"Andronlcus" existed, and that this is dated from 1584-89. 
This favors the view that there never had substantially been 
more than one play on the story, whatever slight variations In 
detail It may have undergone.^ 

But, declares Furnivall, " to me as to Hallam and many others, 
the play declares as plainly as play can speak, I am not Shake- 
speare." Nearly all the best critics from Theobald downwards 
are agreed that very little of the play was written by Shake- 
speare, and such Is my own judgment now, though "In my salad 
days," I wrote and printed otherwise.^ 

Lloyd takes this view : — 

The Internal evidence that has weighed against the authen- 
ticity of the play founds on the defect of its versification — on 
the absence of dramatic spirit and poetic Imagery — and lastly 
on the savage details of the story. The monotonous and lame 
versification Is — allowing a date, quite consistent with an early 
— perhaps the earliest essay of Shakespeare, and we may dis- 
agree but have no quarrel with those who adopt this view In 
preference to casting the blame on any supposed original, that 
he altered and did not entirely overwrite; and think that we may 
trace In the play the gradations by which this embarrassed style 
grew Into the true Shakespearian vigour.^ 

* Karl Elze, Ph.D., Essays on Shakespeare, pp. 60, 66, 348-49. London, 
1894. 

2 C. H. Herford, Litt.D., Hon. Litt.D., The Works of Shakespeare, vol. vii, 
p. 286. London, 1904. 

' Fred'k J. Furnivall, M.A., The Succession of Shakespeare Works, p. xxii. 
London, 1874 (Leopold edition). Rev. Henry N. Hudson, The Complete Works 
of William Shakespeare, vol. xiii, p. 4. Boston, 1899 (Hudson edition). 

* William Watkiss lAoy 6., Critical Essays on the Plays of Shakespeare, pp. 
349, 350. London, 1909. 

117 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Perhaps before dismissing "Titus Andronicus" we would 
do well to quote Malone, who throws some suggestive 
lights upon the subject especially interesting to Bacon- 
ians : — 

To enter into a long disquisition to prove this piece not to have 
been written by Shakespeare, would be an idle waste of time, — 
I will, however, mention one mode by which it may be easily 
ascertained. 

He then presents a list of fourteen plays, "Selimus," "Lo- 
crine," "Arden of Feversham," "Edward I," "Spanish Trag- 
edy," "Solyman and Perseda," "King Leir," "the old 
King John," and others; plays which for the most part are 
claimed by Baconians to be early productions of the author 
of "Hamlet," and declares "'Titus Andronicus,' was coined 
in the same mint"; and he continues thus: — 

The testimony of Meres, mentioned in a preceding note, alone 
remains to be considered. His enumerating this among Shak- 
speare's plays may be accounted for in the same way In which 
we may account for its being printed by his fellow-comedians 
in the first folio edition of his works. Meres was In 1598, when 
his book appeared, intimately connected with Drayton, and 
probably acquainted with some of the dramatic poets of the time, 
from some or other of whom he might have heard that Shak- 
speare interested himself about this tragedy, or had written a 
few lines for the author. The Internal evidence furnished by 
the piece itself, and proving it not to have been the production of 
Shakspeare, greatly outweighs any single testimony on the other 
side. Meres might have been misinformed, or Inconsiderately 
have given credit to the rumour of the day. For six of the plays 
which he has mentioned, (exclusive of the evidence which the 
representation of the pieces themselves might have furnished,) he 
had perhaps no better authority than the whisper of the theater; 
for they were not then printed. He could not have been de- 
ceived by a title-page, as Dr. Johnson supposes; for Shakspeare's 
name Is not In the title-page of the edition printed in quarto 
in 161 1, and therefore we may conclude, was not in the title- 
page of that In 1594, of which the other was undoubtedly a re- 
impresslon. 

118 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Malone, entirely oblivious of the future effect of his words 
upon the question of the authorship of the plays, discloses 
with surprising clearness the careless conditions surrounding 
the authorship of such works, which easily permitted the 
ascription of a play to one who had nothing to do with it. It 
was legitimate then for a partisan of the actor to tell the truth 
in such a case, but now, if he did so, he would be smitten hip 
and thigh by our modern Philistines and cast out of the camp, 
the old truth having become heresy. 

Let us now consider the Two Gentlemen of Verona, a 
dramatic version of a Spanish romance of George de Monte- 
mayor, first translated into English in 1598. Some critics 
have traced unimportant resemblances to other sources. In 
1585 a play was enacted before the Queen at Greenwich, 
under the title of "Felix and Philomena," the names of the 
hero and heroine of this romance. The first mention of "The 
Two Gentlemen of Verona" was made in 1598, by Francis 
Meres, who, next to Henslowe, is our most important witness 
in dramatic matters of this period. As it is, according to the 
best authorities, a version of Montemayor's romance, would 
the authorship of the earlier play by the Stratford actor have 
been questioned, we may ask, had he been in London in 1885, 
and accredited with the authorship of dramatic works .f* It 
seems doubtful, though now it is assumed that there were two 
plays on the same subject. Says Collier of this play: — 

It is unquestionably the work of a young and unpracticed 
dramatist. It may have been written very soon after he joined 
a theatrical company. The notion of some critics that the "Two 
Gentlemen of Verona" contains few or no marks of Shake- 
speare's hand is a strong proof of their incompetence to form a 
judgment.^ 

The last sentence is strangely familiar. It is the jawbone 
with which the orthodox Shaksperians like Lee, Collins, Rob- 
ertson, and others, smite all Philistine dissenters. 

^ J. Payne Collier, The Works of Shakespeare, vol. i, p. 69. 
119 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Says White : — 

Among the unaccountable and incomprehensible blunders of 
the critics of the last century with regard to Shakespeare and 
his works, was the denial by two of them, Hanmer and Upton, — 
and the doubt by more, that he wrote the "Two Gentlemen of 
Verona." . . . Thecomparatively timid style and unskillful struc- 
ture . . . show that it was the work of Shakespeare. . . . May 
we not place the production of his first three or four plays, of 
which this is undoubtedly one, earlier than 1 591.'' ^ 

And Phillipps: — 

The general opinion that the "Two Gentlemen of Verona" 
is one of the author's very earliest complete dramatic efforts may 
be followed without much risk of error. ^ 

Let us now consider Hamlet, concerning which there seems 
to be a consensus of opinion that it is the greatest of the 
"Shakespeare" Works. 

This play founded upon the history of Denmark by Saxo 
Grammaticus, published in Paris in 15 14, was on the stage 
about the time of the actor's arrival in London, in 1587, if 
not earlier. This date is fixed by Thomas Nash in 1589 as 
follows : — 

It is a common practice, now a dales, amongst a sorte of shift- 
ing companions, — to leave the trade of Nouerint, whereto they 
were borne, and busie themselves with the endeuors of art. Yet 
English Seneca read by candle light yeeldes manie good sentences 
— and if you entreate him faire in a frostie morning, he will 
aifoord you whole Hamletts, I should say handfulls of tragical 
speeches.^ 

The meaning of the word "Noverint" is significant. Nash 
attributes the authorship of "Hamlet" to a lawyer, "Nove- 
rint universi," being a preliminary to legal instruments, and 
equivalent to " Know all men," etc. 

^ White, The Works of Shakespeare, vol. 11, pp. 102, 103. Boston, 1865. 
* Phillipps, Outlines, etc., vol. 11, p. 284. 

3 Greene's Menaphon. London, 1589, n.p. Cf. Sir E. Bridges, Bart., M.P., 
Archaica, vol. i, p. xiii. London, 181 5. 

120 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

The next allusion to this play is made in 1591 by Thomas 
Nash, in a preface to a work of Sidney in which he says he 
cannot "sit taboring five years together nothing but 'to be, 
to be' on a paper drum," the words paper drum signifying 
dramatic poetry. In 1594 there is an entry in Henslowe's 
"Diary" as follows: "9 of June 1594, Rd at hamlet — 
VHP " ; which shows that Henslowe received eight shillings 
as his share, or part of it, from a performance of the play. 
The smallness of this sum, supposing it to represent his whole 
share, has caused the writing of many pages of trifling con- 
jecture, though a heavy storm, a neighboring conflagration, 
or what is more probable, the competition with Children's 
Plays, so-called, then very popular, might easily account for 
it. We next hear of it when Lodge refers to "The ghost which 
cried so miserably at the Theater like an oister wife, * Hamlet 
revenge.' " ^ In 1598 Gabriel Harvey refers to it by name, 
and in 1602 Dekker in his "Satiromastix" uses these words, 
"No, fye'st my name's Hamlet, revenge; — Thou hast been 
at Parris Garden, hast not.^" In 1603 "Hamlet" was pub- 
lished for the first time in quarto, though it had been entered 
some months before under the title of the " Revenge of Ham- 
let, Prince of Denmark," and on the title-page w^as the fol- 
lowing : — 

As it hath beene diverse times acted by his Highnesse servants 
in the Cittle of London; as also in the two Vniversities of Cam- 
bridge and Oxford, and else-where. 

We thus have continuous notices of this play from a date 
as early as the actor's arrival in London until 1603. The 
Quarto of "Hamlet" of this date was a godsend to a few en- 
thusiasts who at once shouted, "We have found one of the 
old plays that Shakspere rewrote." Well, what if it were so? 
It would only make him "a rank plagiarist," as Knight saw, 
and warned them against ; but that they believed to be the 

^ Lodge, Wit^s Miserie, p. 56. London, 1596. 
121 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

lesser of two evils, and some still fatuously adhere to it. To 
add to the confusion the very next year, 1604, another Quarto 
was printed for one of the same publishers, Nicholas Ling, 
with substantially the same title-page upon which was the 
following : — 

Newly imprinted and enlarged to almost as much againe as 
it was, according to the true and perfect Coppie. 

This Quarto practically gives us "Hamlet" as we now have 
it. Phiilipps explains this by avoiding the dilemma of recog- 
nizing the 1603 Quarto as an early play which had conven- 
iently dropped out of existence, and supposes it to be a muti- 
lated copy of the true " Hamlet " fraudulently foisted upon the 
public. He says that Ling and his associate, Trundell, — 

Employed an inferior and clumsy writer to work up, in his 
own fashion, what scraps of the play had been furtively obtained 
from shorthand notes or other memoranda, into the semblance 
of a perfect drama, which they had the audacity to pubHsh as 
Shakespeare's own work.^ 

Furnivall takes practically the same view. But what proof 
is there that there ever was an older play of "Hamlet" by 
an unknown author.^ None whatever. It is a pure assumption 
of Malone based upon the entry in Henslowe's "Diary" al- 
ready quoted. So small a sum as eight shillings he concludes 
is full confirmation that there was an older play of "Hamlet." 
He says : — 

It cannot be supposed that our poet's play should have been 
performed but once in the time of this account, and that Mr. 
Henslowe should have drawn from such a piece but the sum of 
eight shillings, when his share in several other plays came to 
three and sometimes four pounds. 

And he suggests that it might have been written by Kyd. 
From this Skottowe ventures to assert that there was an 
old play, and when Lowndes compiled his "Bibliographer's 

^ Phiilipps, Outlines, etc., vol. i, p. 208, 
122 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Manual," he adopted the assertion, and unwarrantably listed 
" Kyd's old play of Hamlet," which was wholly mythical, as 
though it were a well-known work. This is an excellent illus- 
tration of how mere speculations in history become crystal- 
lized into fact in the encyclopaedia to mislead unwary students. 
Says Staunton : — 

What really concerns us is to know whether, making large 
allowance for omissions and corruptions due to the negligence of 
those through whose hands the manuscript passed, the edition 
of 1603 exhibits the play as Shakespeare first wrote it, and as it 
was "divers times acted." We believe it does.^ 

Says Knight : — 

Not a tittle of distinct evidence exists to show that there was 
any other play of "Hamlet" but that of Shakspere; and all of 
the collateral evidence upon which it is inferred that an earlier 
play of "Hamlet" than Shakspere's did exist, may, on the other 
hand, be taken to prove that Shakspere's original sketch of Ham- 
let was In repute at an earlier period than is commonly assigned 
as its date.- 

Lee, however, adopting Malone's suggestion, or Lowndes' 
careless note, positively asserts : — 

The story of the Prince of Denmark had been popular on the 
stage as early as 1 589 in a lost dramatic version by another writer, 
doubtless Thomas Kyd. To that lost version of "Hamlet," 
Shakespeare's tragedy certainly owed much. 

As there was no English translation of the story upon which 
the so-called later "Hamlet" was founded, he coolly informs 
us that "Shakespeare doubtless read it in French."^ 

Timmins gives us this saner and safer opinion: — 

I record my own conviction that both texts now republished 
are most valuable, the first a rough-hewn draft cf a noble drama 
(written probably 1587-89) "divers times acted by His Highness' 

^ Howard Staunton, The Plays of Shakespeare, vol. in, p. 327. London, i860. 

^ Knight, Tragedies, vol. i, p. 93. 

* Lee, A Life of Shakespeare, p. 221. London, 1898. 

123 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

servants" till 1602, when It was entered for publication and soon 
after "enlarged" and "shaped" as It appears In the Second 
quarto by the divine bard's maturer mlnd.^ 

Furness gives us this fanciful opinion: — 

That there was an old play on the story of Hamlet, some por- 
tions of which are still preserved In Q i : that about the year 
1602, Shakespeare took this and began to remodel it for the 
stage, as he had done with other plays; that Q i represents the 
play after it had been retouched by him to a certain extent, but 
before his alterations were complete; and that In Q 2 we have for 
the first time the "Hamlet" of Shakespeare. ^ 

This acute anxiety of Furness and others to get a single bit 
of evidence, however shadowy, to buttress their contention, 
discloses pitiable weakness ; but like everything that has been 
promulgated to serve their purpose this has failed, for it is 
evident that the same brain that conceived the "Hamlet" 
of 1603, conceived that of 1604 which is virtually that of the 
Folio. It is quite likely that the former is a mutilated copy; 
that it has been liberally "cut," and passages "emended" 
by the players; but there is enough left to prove its author- 
ship. It is somewhat curious that in the grave-digger scene, 
the jester is said to have been "i the earth a dozen years." 
If he died in 1579 this would make the date of the play 1591, 
which is near the supposed date of the "old play." A dozen 
years is a convenient term to designate an approximate time, 
but when revised and enlarged by its author in 1602-03,^ is 
it not significative that the time of Yorick's death is changed 
to "23 yeeres" in order to make it conform to the true date.? 
From Rowe to the present time this has passed unobserved, 
but had the critics noticed it and thought it favorable to their 

* Samuel Timmins, The Devonshire Hamlets, p. viii, et seq. 

^ Furness, ^ New Variorum Edition 0/ Shakespeare, vol. iv, p. 32. Philadel- 
phia, 1877. 

' The Quarto of 1603 was registered July 26, 1602, and the Quarto of 1604 
about six months later; namely, February 7, 1602, old style; both to James 
Roberts. 

124 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

contention, would it not have been heralded as a remarkable 
discovery? We shall allude to this later. 

To Knight we are indebted for a more reasonable analysis 
of the subject, and will briefly quote: — 

We can find nothing, he says, in Malone's argument to prove 
that it was not Shakspere's Hamlet which was acted by Shak- 
spere's company on the 9th of June, 1594. . . . Their occupation 
of it — Henslowe's theater — might have been very temporary; 
and during that occupation, Shakspere's Hamlet might have been 
once performed. . . . And now we must express our decided opin- 
ion grounded upon an attentive comparison of the original 
sketch (1603) with the perfect play (1604) that the original 
sketch was an early production of our poet. That the play which 
the commentators imagine to be lost is to be found in the Quarto 
of 1603, and much improved in that of 1604, seems too evident 
to require discussion. The appearance in it of the King's ghost, 
which is not found in the history from which it was taken but 
was the creation of the author, and of Hamlet's soliloquy, are 
enough to identify it, and we must conclude that it was a youth- 
ful work improved by its author in maturer years. -^ 

Says Gervinus : — 

According to Thomas Nash — there was a drama upon Ham- 
let as early as 1589, and perhaps even 1587. Several English 
critics believe this old play itself to be the work of Shakespeare's 
youthful hand. And it was certain that the poet was occupied 
with this subject, as with Romeo and Juliet, at an earlier stage 
of his dramatic career.^ 

This view should dispose of the question of the actor's 
authorship of the "Shakespeare" Works. But there are other 
works in the Folio to puzzle commentators. 

The Taming of the Shrew. This comedy has proved for 
critics a Pandora's box, for, as in the case of "Hamlet," they 
tell us there was a previous play entitled, "The Taming of a 
Shrew." We first hear of it in Greene's "Menaphon" in 1589. 

^ Knight, Tragedies, vol. i, pp. 92, 93. 

' Gervinus, Shakespeare Commentaries, p. 549. London, 1883. 

I2S 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

With respect to the play as we have it in the FoHo, Malone 
says : — 

I had supposed the piece to have been written in the year 
1606. On a more attentive perusal of it, and more experience 
of our author's style and manner, I am persuaded that it was 
one of his very early productions. 

And Collier: — 

/ am satisfied that more than one hand (perhaps at distant dates) 
was concerned in it, and that Shakespeare had little to do with 
any of the scenes in which Katherine and Petrucio are not en- 
gaged . . . the underplot much resembles the dramatic style of 
William Haughton. 

While Steevens replies: — 

I know not to whom I could impute this comedy if Shake- 
speare was not its author. 

With these quotations Knight introduces his own opinion 
of the subject: — 

"The Taming of a Shrew" first appeared in 1594, — "as it 
was sundry times acted by . . . The Earle of Pembroke, his serv- 
ants." . . . 

The incidents are precisely the same as those of the play which 
we call Shakspere's. The scene of the old play is laid at Athens; 
that of Shakspere's at Padua. The Athens of the one and the 
Padua of the other are resorts of learning. This undoubted re- 
semblance involves some necessity for conjecture, with very little 
guide from evidence. The first and most obvious hypothesis 
is that the "Taming of a Shrew" was an older play than Shak- 
spere's and that he borrowed from that comedy. The question 
then arises, who was Its author.^ 

He then proceeds to compare it with Greene's "Orlando 
Furioso" with very poor success. At a later period, having 
had his attention drawn by a correspondent to Marlowe he 

says : — 

We now propose a second theory altogether different from our 
previous notion, from that of our correspondent, and from that 

126 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

of any other writer. Was there not an older play than the " Tavi- 
ing of a Shrezv,^^ which furnished the main plot, some of the 
characters, and a small part of the dialogue, both to the author of 
"The Taming of a Shrew," and the author of the "Taming of 
the Shrew." . . . But there is a third theory — that of Tieck — 
that the "Taming of a Shrew" was a youthful work of Shak- 
spere himself.'' 

This theory he finally accepts and calls attention to the 
entry in Henslowe's "Diary" of the 3d June, 1594, already 
alluded to with reference to "Hamlet," and continues: — 

This entry of "the taminge of a shrewe" immediately follows 
that of Hamlet: and we see nothing to shake our belief that both 
these were Shakspere's plays. -^ 

Says Gervlnus: — 

No other undisputed [sic] play of Shakspeare's furnishes so 
much evidence of his learning and study as the "Taming of the 
Shrew." In the address of the Syracusan Antipholus to Luciana, 
— "Comedy of Errors," — in which he calls her a m.ermaid, 
and asks her, "Are you a god?" there is a purely Homeric tone; 
the same passage bearing the same stamp Is met with again in 
the "Taming of the Shrew" where Katherine, when she addresses 
Vincentio, uses a similar passage from Ovid, borrowed by him 
from Homer, the antique sound of which lingers even under the 
touch of a fourth hand. This prevailing mannerism of his youth- 
ful writings ought long ago to have determined the position of 
this play as belonging to the earliest period of the poet.^ 

In other words, when he was a hostler or call-boy for the 
Burbages, and while he was speaking the "patois" of War- 
wickshire. 

Let us listen to Rolfe: — 

"The Taming of the Shrew" is evidently an adaptation of 
an earlier play published anonymously in 1594 — called "The 
Taming of a Shrew." Fleay believes that this old play was writ- 
ten by Marlowe and Shakespeare in conjunction in 1589, but 

' Knight, Comedies, vol. i, pp. 264-68. 

2 Gervlnus, Shakespeare Commentaries, pp. 138, 139. London, 1883. 

127 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

the critics generally agree that the latter had no hand in it. They 
also agree that somebody besides Shakespeare had a hand in 
the revision of the play. 

Rolfe however agrees with Furnivall and Dowden — 

That "The Taming of the Shrew" is Shakespeare's adapta- 
tion not of the original "Taming of a Shrew" but of an enlarged 
version of that play made by some unknown writer. As Furni- 
vall puts it, "An adapter who used at least ten bits of Marlowe 
in it, first recast the old play, and then Shakspere put into the 
recast the scenes in which Katherina, Petruchio, and Grumio 
appear." ^ 

Yet Yardley, realizing the fact that the classical learning 
displayed by the author of the "Shakespeare" Works is 
fatal to the actor's claims to authorship, boldly asserts that 
"there are no signs of classical learning in his great plays"; 
that "he had neither read nor was capable of reading Latin, 
and had never read Greek" ; and labors to show that whatever 
classical learning there is in the works could have been ac- 
quired without a knowledge of Greek or Latin. It is curious, 
as showing the straits into which the devotees of the actor 
have been driven, that not far from the time that Yardley 
wrote, Churton Collins, in his "Had Shakespeare read the 
Greek Tragedies.?" contended in the " Fortnightly Review " 
that the author of the works was an accomplished Latin 
scholar. For this Collins was blamed by the "Daily News" 
for "strengthening the hands of the Baconians." Yardley 
discloses his animus by the following unwise admission, 
"All these attempts to give erudition to Shakespeare seem 
to lead to his being converted to Bacon. Otherwise I should 
not trouble myself much about it." This is the usual at- 
titude of the orthodox Stratfordian toward the "Baconian 
heretic." ^ 

1 William J . Rolfe, A.M., Shakespeare'' s Comedy of the Taming oj the Shrew, 
p. lo. New York, 1881. 

^ Notes and Queries, vol. 12, p. 191. 

128 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

We will not weary the reader further with the worthless 
and misleading speculations of other commentators on this 
play, but remark that the anonymous play printed in 1594, 
but which had been then known at least five years, was pub- 
lished by the Shakespeare Society in 1844, several years before 
Bacon's authorship was thought of, and a copy is now before 
the writer. It not only presents the same plot, but verbally 
agrees in more than two hundred instances, showing conclu- 
sively that its author was the same as the author of the Folio 
play. 

The Comedy of Errors also perplexes the commentators, 
who shy at so many evidently early works of their author. It 
was first printed in the Folio of 1623. Says Knight: — 

The "Comedy of Errors" was clearly one of Shakspere's very 
early plays. It was probably untouched by its author after its 
first production. 

For evidence of its early date we must depend, he con- 
tinues, — 

Upon the great prevalence of that measure which was known 
to our language as early as the time of Chaucer, by the name of 
"rime doggerel." This peculiarity is found only in three of our 
author's plays, — "Loves Labour's Lost," "The Taming of the 
Shrew," and in the "Comedy of Errors." But this measure was 
a distinguishing characteristic of the early English drama. . . . 
There cannot, we think, be a stronger proof that the "Comedy 
of Errors" was an early play of our author, than its agreement, 
in this particular, with the models which Shakspere found in his 
almost immediate predecessors. 

He then alludes to the difficulty experienced by commenta- 
tors in according to the actor so wide a knowledge of classical 
authors as the play discloses. He says: — 

The speech of ^Egeon in the first scene 

A heavier task could not have been impos'd 
Than I to speak my griefs unspeakable 

is, they admit, an imitation of the "Infandum, Regina, jubes 

129 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

renovare dolorem" of Virgil. "Thou art an elm, my husband, I 
a vine," is in Catullus, Ovid, and Horace. The "owls" that 
"suck the breath" are the "stringes" of Ovid. The apostrophe 
of Dromio to the virtues of beating — "when I am cold he 
heats me with beating," etc. The burning of the conjuror's beard 
is an incident copied from the twelfth book of Virgil's "^neid." 
Lastly, in the original copy of the "Comedy of Errors," the An- 
tipholus of Ephesus is called Sereptus ^- a corruption of the epi- 
thet by which one of the twin brothers in Plautus is distinguished. 
"If the poet had not dipped into the original Plautus," says 
Capell, "Surreptus had never stood in his copy, the translation 
having no such agnomen." Steevens says: "Shakspere might 
have taken the general plan of the Comedy from a translation 
of the 'Menaechmi' of Plautus by W. W. in 1595." Ritson 
thinks he was under no obligation to this translation, but that 
the "Comedy of Errors" "was not originally his, but proceeded 
from some inferior playwright, who was capable of the 'Men- 
sechmi' without the help of a translation." ^ 

The first record of a performance of this play was at Gray*s 
Inn in 1594, Francis Bacon being master of ceremonies; but 
an allusion in it to France "making war against her heir/* 
which Theobald suggests refers to the war begun in 1589 
against Henry of Navarre, heir to the throne, might indicate 
an earlier date. This suggestion, however, is clearly without 
force. Boas thinks that " 1591 may be set down as the approxi- 
mate date of the play," and that its author "may have worked 
upon some earlier stage version, perhaps 'The Historie of 
Error,' acted at Hampton Court in 1576." While he says, — 

The comparison of the "Comedy of Errors" with the "Men- 
aechmi" illustrates admirably the advantages of Shakspere's 
over Plautus' method, the poverty of its dialogue, and the thin- 
ness of its portraiture prove the hand of the immature artist,^ — 

Says Gervinus : — 

In the "Comedy of Errors " that great feature of Shakespear- 
ian profoundness, that power of obtaining a deep inner signifi- 

^ Knight, Comedies, vol. i, pp. 211-14. 

* Frederick S. Boas, M.A., Shakespeare and his Predecessors, pp. 168-172. 
New York, 1910. 

130 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

cance from the most superficial material, seems to be before us 
in this one early example, in which the fine spiritual application, 
which the poet has extracted from the material, strikes us as 
all the more remarkable, the more coarse and bold the outwork 
of the poet.^ 

Lee assigns to this play a date next to the "Two Gentlemen 
of Verona " ; he says, — 

Shakespeare next tried his hand in the " Comedy of Errors." ^ 

Love's Labours Lost,^ published in 1598, and said to be 
"newly corrected and augmented," is equally troublesome to 
commentators. Knight, less disposed to shirk the danger of 
accrediting his idol with early authorship, takes up this play 
as follows: — 

As no edition of the comedy, before it was corrected and aug- 
mented, is known to exist, we have no proof that the few allu- 
sions to temporary circumstances, which are supposed in some 
degree to fix the date of the play, may not apply to the augmented 
copy only. Thus, when Moth refers to "the dancing horse," the 
fact that Bank's horse first appeared in London in 1589, does 
not prove that the original play might not have been written 
before 1589. 

After citing several other vital objections to the theory of a 
later authorship of this play, he concludes : — 

Lastly, the mask in the fifth act, where the king and his lords 
appear in Russian habits, and the allusion to Muscovites which 
this mask produces, are supposed by Warburton to hav^e been 
suggested by the public concern for the settlement of a treaty 
of commerce with Russia in 1591. But the learned commentator 
overlooks a passage in Hall's "Chronicle," which shows that a 
mask of Muscovites was a court recreation in the time of Henry 
VHL In the extrinsic evidence, therefore, which this comedy sup- 
plies, there is nothing whatever to disprove the theory which we 
entertain, that, before it had been "corrected and augmented," 
"Love's Labour's Lost" was one of the plays produced by Shak- 

^ Gervinus, Shakespeare Commentaries, p. 138. 

* Lee, J Life of Shakespeare, p. 53. 

' We believe this form of the title to be correct, though unusual. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

spere about 1589. The intrinsic evidence appears to us entirely 

to support this opinion.^ 

Says Gervinus : — 

The comedy of "Love's Labour's Lost" belongs indisputably 
to the earliest dramas of the poet, and will be almost of the same 
date as the "Two Gentlemen of Verona." The peculiarities of 
Shakespeare's youthful pieces are perhaps most accumulated in 
this play. The reiterated mention of mythological and historic 
personages, the air of learning, the Italian and Latin expressions, 
which here, it must be admitted, serve a comic end; the older 
English versification, the numerous doggerel verses, and the 
rhymes more frequent than anywhere else, and extending over 
almost half of the play; all this places this work among the earlier 
efforts of the poet.^ 

Furnivall contends that "Love's Labours Lost" was his 
earliest play, and "The Tempest" his last, basing his opinion 
upon the relative number of rhymed and blank verse lines in 
each.^ While we dissent from this method of proof as an im- 
perfect one, to say the least, there is little doubt that it was 
written at a very early period of its author's career, may we 
not premise soon after returning from France in 1579.^ And 
may it not be one of the comedies mentioned by Immerito to 
Harvey? 

The editors of the Folio Reprint say: — 

Internally the play bears evidence of being written in the first, 
or rhyming period, and revised in maturer years. It is probably 
the earliest of the comedies, as is shown by its poetic rather than 
its dramatic qualities, its balancing of characters, and its sketchy 
characterization.'* 

And the poet Coleridge: — 

The characters in this play are either impersonated out of 
Shakespeare's own multiformity by imaginative self-position, 

^ Knight, Comedies, vol. i, p. 75, et seq. 
^ Gervinus, Shakespeare Commentaries, p. 1641. 

^ Frank J. Furnivall, M.A., The Succession of Shakspere's Works, p. xxii. 
London, 1874. 

* Folio Reprint, Introduction, vol. 3. 

132 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

or out of such as a country town and school-boy's observation 
might supply — the frequency of the rhymes, the sweetness as 
well as the smoothness of the metre, and the number of acute 
and fancifully illustrated aphorisms are all they ought to be in a 
poet's youth. ^ 

Says Lee : — 

To "Love's Labour's Lost" may reasonably be assigned pri- 
ority in point of time of all Shakespeare's dramatic productions.'^ 



Phillipps's opinion of this play is thus expressed: — 

A complete appreciation of "Love's Labour's Lost" was re- 
served for the present century, several modern psychological 
critics of eminence having successfully vindicated its title to a 
position amongst the best productions of the great dramatist.' 

Yet Collier says that in this play the 

Poet plays the fool egregiously, for the whole play is a very 
silly one."* 

And Herford : — 

The original version of "Love's Labour's Lost" was among 
the earliest of Shakespeare's original plays, if not, as is generally 
supposed the first of all.^ 

From the time of Rowe, who published the first life of the 
actor, having persistently gathered every item relating to him, 
recorded and traditional, and who, living nearer to his time 
than more modern writers, had a clearer view of the man and 
his antecedents than they, but was unable to account for the 
vast learning displayed in the earlier works ascribed to him, 
many critics have held the untenable theory that he attained 
the pinnacle of literary excellence by virtue of inborn genius, 
without that education, training, and experience hitherto 

^ The Complete Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge, vol. iv, p. 79. New York, 
1864. 

^ Lee, A Life of Shakespeare, p. 50. 

* Phillipps, Memoranda, p. 17. London, 1879. 

* Collier, Short Views, etc., of the English Stage, p. 125. London, 1699. 

* Herford, The Works of Shakespeare, vol. i. New York, 1904. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

deemed so necessary to mankind in the accomplishment of 
great works of art. Respecting the drama of Pericles, Rowe 
was dubious. He says: — 

There is no good Reason to believe that the greatest part of 
that play was not written by him.^ 

This has been another bone of contention among devotees, 
some of whom have even had a fling at the painstaking Rowe 
for his too much meddling with things which better had been 
overlooked. The same differences of opinion, and the same 
indulgence in assumptions, are evident in their treatment of 
this play. 

Malone declares that 

"Pericles" was the entire work of Shakespeare, and one of his 
earliest compositions. 

AndRolfe: — 

It is now, however, generally agreed by critics that the first two 
acts of the play, together with the brothel scenes in the fourth 
act, were written by some other author than Shakespeare. 

Steevens says: — 

I must acquit even the irregular and lawless Shakespeare of 
having constructed the fabric of the drama, though he has cer- 
tainly bestowed some decoration on its parts. 

Hallam guesses that 

"Pericles" was by some inferior hand, perhaps, by a personal 
friend of Shakespeare's, and that he, without remodelling the 
plot, undertook to correct and improve it, beginning with slight 
additions, and his mind warming as he proceeded, breaking out 
towards the close of the drama with its accustomed vigour and 
abundance. 

And Collier: — 

We apprehend that Shakespeare founded a drama on the story 
in the possession of one of the companies performing in London, 
and that, in accordance with the ordinary practice of the time, 

^ N. Rowe, Esq., The Works of William Shakespeare, vol. i, p. vii. London, 
1709- 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

he made additions to and Improvements In It, and procured It 
to be represented at the Globe Theatre. 

In a note he continues his guesses in this futile manner: — 

By a list of the theatrical apparel, formerly belonging to Alleyn, 
and preserved at Dulwlch College, it appears that he had prob- 
ably acted In a play called "Pericles." This might be the play 
which Shakespeare altered and Improved,^ 

White, speaking of the origin of the drama, "The Romance 

of Appollonius Tyrias," possibly written in the sixth century, 

and a version by Gower in the eighth book of "Confessio 

Amantis," as well as a version by Lawrence Twine (1576), 

concludes that : — 

By whom and when the play was written Is not to be so easily 
discussed. The external evidence upon which It may be attrib- 
uted to Shakespeare is not strong. In fact, it resolves Itself 
merely into the presence of his name upon the title page of two 
editions published during his life, and the absence of any known 
denial of the authorship by him, or on his part. 

Quoting Dryden's line — 

Shakespeare's own Muse his Pericles first bore — 

and discarding it, he continues : — 

There is really no other external evidence of Shakespeare's 
authorship of the play than the presence of his name on the old 
title-page; and that is of no weight. The same exists as to his hav- 
ing written "Sir John Oldcastle," "The London Prodigal," and 
"A Yorkshire Tragedy," plays in which no competent critic has 
been able to trace even his prentice hand. . . . Considering all 
the evidence. It therefore seems Impossible to avoid the con- 
clusion that "Pericles" is a play, which, planned and mostly 
or wholly written by another dramatist, Shakespeare enriched 
throughout for the benefit of the theatre which owned it. . . . 
When "Pericles" was originally written we do not know; but 
it was quite surely sometime before Shakespeare became a play- 
wright.^ 

^ J. Payne Collier, The Works of Shakespeare, vol. viii, p. 203. New York, 
1853. Cf. Memoirs of Edward Alleyn, p. 21. Shakespeare Society, London. 
2 Richard Grant White, The Works of Shakespeare, pp. 301-05. 

135 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

The admission by White that the presence of a name on a 
title-page is of no weight is so true that it should be noted. 
Other so-called authorities have asserted this in their efforts 
to discredit the authorship of plays not in the Canon; but they 
now balk when this argument, eminently true, is made use of 
by Baconians. His admission of the early date of the play is 
noticeable. 

Lee, with his usual annoying confidence, asserts : — 

Although Shakespeare's powers showed no signs of exhaustion, 
he reverted in the year following the colossal effort of "Lear" 
(1607) to his earlier habit of collaboration, and with another's 
aid composed two dramas — "Timon of Athens " and " Pericles." 
There seems some ground for the belief that Shakespeare's co- 
adjutor In "Timon" was George Wilkes — at any rate, Wilkes 
may safely be credited with portions of " Pericles." . . . The pres- 
ence of a third hand, of Inferior merit to Wilkes, has been sus- 
pected, and to this collaborator (perhaps William Rowley) are 
best assigned the three scenes of purposeless coarseness which 
take place in or before a brothel.^ 

The value of such criticism may be seen by this from 
Phillipps: — 

There can be but little doubt that Shakespeare, who was in 
early life, and perhaps to some extent afterwards, the Johannes 
Factotum of the theatre, contributed numerous fragments to 
the drama of others. There Is not, however, the slightest con- 
temporary hint that he ever entered Into the joint authorship 
of a play with anyone else, and such a notion is directly opposed 
to the express testimony of Leonard Dlgges.^ 

In his "Memoir of Ben Jonson," Proctor accuses the crit- 
ics of " Pericles " from Pope to Gifford of condemning it un- 
read. He declares that 

From "Lear" down to "Pericles," there ought to be no mis- 
take between Shakespeare and other writers. 

^ Lee, A Life of Shakespeare, pp. 242, 243. 
^ Phillipps, Outlines, etc., vol. 11, p. 409. 

136 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

TiMON OF Athens, based on Plutarch's "Lives," and first 
printed in the Folio, which has already been alluded to, has 
also provoked speculation. The editors of the late reprint of 
the First Folio in their introduction to it remark that : — 

The play that has come down to us as Shakespeare's Is Itself 
of doubtful origin. That It Is not all his Is now the accepted be- 
lief, and traces of the lost earlier text may possibly be Imbedded 
in the present one. The various theories of authorship contem- 
plate the following: (i) That Shakespeare rewrote the older 
drama. (2) That Shakespeare's play, left unfinished, was com- 
pleted by other hands. (3) That a combination of the two fore- 
going seems likely. (4) That Shakespeare and another author 
worked together. (5) That the Folio editors rewrought the play 
from the leading character's stage parts. . . . There Is no 
record of Its having been performed during Shakespeare's life- 
time, and no early Quarto printing. Evidence must rest Inter- 
nally. Coleridge has characterized it as an "after-vibration of 
'Hamlet.'"! 

Knight declares that the author was indebted more to Lu- 
cian than to Plutarch, and that his work was a remodeling of 
an older play which belonged 

to the period when our poet began to write for the stage — a 
period when the public ear was not familiarized to the flowing 
harmony of his own verse, or the regular cadences of Marlowe's 
and Greene's. 

Boas asserts that 

"Timon of Athens," as It stands, cannot represent a complete, 
genuine Shakespearian work. The contrast between the noble 
verse and Imagery In the finer scenes, and the halting metre and 
insipid dialogue of other parts. Is too striking to be entirely at- 
tributed to the dramatist in the maturity of his powers. Yet 
these Inequalities have been exaggerated, and all attempts to 
rigidly separate the genuine from the spurious parts of the work, 
must be viewed with suspicion.^ 

' Charlotte Porter, H. A. Clark, The Complete Works of Shakespeare, vol. 
X, Introduction. Tymon, London, n.d. 

* Boas, Shakespeare and his Predecessors, p. 495. New York, 1910. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

King John. This play, under the title of "The Troublesome 
Reign of King John," published anonymously in quarto in 
1691, and included by Meres in his list of "Shakespeare" plays 
in 1598, was republished in 161 1, this time bearing on its 
title-page "written by W. Sh.," and again in 1622, "W. Shake- 
speare," leaves no room for us to question its identity with the 
play as we have it in the Folio, though comparison with the 
previous editions, even that of the year before, published six 
years after the actor's death, shows that it had been improved 
by revision, and considerably enlarged, unmistakably by its 
original author. We will see what the critics say of it. 

Phillipps, although he assumes that Meres "had been fa- 
voured with access to the unpublished writings of Drayton 
and Shakespeare,"^ ignores his evidence and says: — 

It is noticed by Meres in 1598, and that it continued to be 
popular until 161 1, may be inferred from the republication in 
that year of the foundation play, "The Troublesome Ralgne 
of King John" as "written by W. Sh.," a clearly fraudulent at- 
tempt to palm off the latter in the place of the work of the great 
dramatist. 2 

Boas, calling attention to the editions of 1591 and 161 1 of the 
"Troublesome Raigne," and calling this an older work, says : — 

Shakespeare entirely followed this older work in the historical 
matter, and there is scarcely more than one passage to be pointed 
out with certainty in which it may be concluded that he con- 
sulted the Chronicles besides. Artistically considered, he took 
in the outward design of the piece, blended both parts into one, 
adhered to the leading features of the characters, and finished 
them with finer touches.^ 

Turning to Lee, we learn exactly how the case stands. He 
speaks in this ex-cathedra fashion : — 

To 1594 must also be assigned "King John." . . . The fraudu- 
lent practice of crediting Shakespeare with valueless plays from 

^ Phillipps, Outlines, etc., vol. i, p. 172. ^ Ibid., vol. 11, p. 285. 

' Boas, Shakespeare and his Predecessors, p. 353. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

the pens of comparatively dull-witted contemporaries was in 
vogue among enterprising traders in literature both early and late 
in the seventeenth century. The worthless old play of "King 
John" was attributed to Shakespeare in the reissues of 1611 
and 1622.^ 

While referring, as also does Boas, to an old moral and al- 
legorical play, called " King Johan," by Bishop Bale, which 
one says probably, and the other positively, tht author of " King 
John" could not have known, Lee takes the ground that the 
"Troublesome Raigne was by certain unknown authors," but 
speaks highly of it, pointing out that 

the characters are well copied from real life or taken from his- 
tory; and they appear upon the stage only in connection with 
the incidents upon which the interest of the play depends. It 
is in spirit and form absolutely dramatic, though not highly so, 
and is as purely an historical play as that which succeeded and 
eclipsed it. 

Further he says : — 

Numerous instances of parallel passages in which the thought 
is similar, and the words sometimes the same, are cited in the 
Notes, and will show the reader that Shakespeare worked with 
the old play in his head if not in his hand — hence some English 
editors in the last century, and some German commentators in 
this, have thought that "The Troublesome Reign" was an early 
work of Shakespeare's. 

Not accepting this view he concludes that: — 

It was probably produced two or three years before the date 
of the first edition known, as at that date it was a new play, and 
in 1587-88, the English hatred of Rome and Spain was stimu- 
lated by the approach of the Spanish Armada. It has been con- 
jectured with great probability that Greene, Peele, and Marlowe 
were concerned in the composition of this old History, and it is 
barely possible that Shakespeare, who seems to have begun his 
career as their humble co-laborer contributed something to it, 
as like in style to what they wrote as he could make it.^ 

^ Lee, A Life of Shakespeare, pp. 69, 181. 

^ Lee, The Works of Shakespeare, vol. v, pp. 10-15. London, 1906. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

We have made this long quotation as illustrating the un- 
bridled assumptions of Shakespeare editors. There is not a 
particle of evidence that the Stratford actor ever was an 
"humble co-laborer" with any one, nor any foundation for 
even a guess that Greene, Peele, or Marlowe had anything to 
do with the play of *' King John." When Meres, of whom all 
speak as the highest of contemporary authorities, placed "The 
Troublesome Reign" in his list of "Shakespeare" plays, he 
did so from knowledge, and his authority is preferable to that 
of those who insult our intelligence by obtruding their guesses 
upon us when we want facts, or, at least, something having the 
color of evidence. Later we shall discuss the relation of Greene, 
Peele, and Marlowe to the plays. The constant reference to 
these three persons is significant. 

Henry V. This drama presents a problem respecting the 
date of its composition similar to those already mentioned. 
Says Rolfe : — 

Shakespeare took the leading incidents of his "Henry IV," 
and "Henry V," from an anonymous play entitled "The Famous 
Victories of Henry Fift" which was written as early as 1588. 
He drew his historical materials from Hollnshed's "Chronicles." ^ 

It was entered May 14, 1594. 

It is a circumstance deserving of remark that not one of the 
title-pages of the quarto editions of "Henry V" attributes the 
authorship of the play to Shakespeare. It was printed several 
times during the life of the poet, but in no instance with his name. 
The inference seems to be that "Henry V " was originally pro- 
duced by Shakespeare in a comparatively incomplete state, and 
that large portions contained in the folio, and of which no trace 
can be pointed out in the quartos were added at a subsequent 
date.^ 

^ William J. Rolfe, A.M., Shakespeare's History of King Henry the Fifth, pp. 
10, II. New York, n. d. 

* George Long Duyckinck, The Works of William Shakespeare, vol, iv, p. 
341. Philadelphia, n. d. 

140 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

This is an interesting admission but militates against the 
authorship by the actor. Any one who studies these additions, 
made long after his death, must admit that they were the 
work of the original author of the play. As half the Quartos 
were printed anonymously it is not " deserving of remark " 
that this one was. 

Nash in his "Pierce Penniless," 1592, has the follow- 
ing:— 

What a glorious thing it is to have "Henry the Fift" repre- 
sented on the stage, leading the French King prisoner, and forc- 
ing both him and the Dolphin to sweare fealtie. 

Says Lee in his usual dogmatic fashion: — 

In 1597, Shakespeare turned once more to English history. 
From Holinshed's "Chronicle" and from a valueless but very 
popular piece, "The Famous Victories of Henry V," which was 
repeatedly acted between 1588 and 1595, he worked up with 
splendid energy two plays on the reign of Henry IV. ^ 

Dr. Johnson's opinion is no doubt correct that the author of 
this play 

Designed a regular connexion of the dramatic histories from 
Richard the Second to Henry the Fifth. 

Says Knight, quoting this remark : — 

Shakspere, Indeed, found the stage In possession of a rude 
drama "The famous Victories of Henry V," upon the founda- 
tion of which he constructed not only his two parts of "Henry 
IV " but his "Henry V." That old play was acted prior to 1588. 
It was entered on the Stationer's books In 1594, and was per- 
formed by Henslowe's company in 1595. Mr. Collier thinks It was 
written soon after 1580. 

It was printed in 1598 and in 1600 appeared as "The Chron- 
icle History of Henry the Fift." Both these plays were from 
the same press, the latter preserving much of the form and 
substance of the former largely rewritten. But Knight finally 

^ Lee, A Life of Shakespeare, p. 167. 
141 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

found how untenable was the position he had adopted and 
gives us his maturer opinion, that the old plays were the work 
of the author of the later ones. These are his words: — 

The "Richard II" and the "Henry IV" were not separated 
from the "Henry V" by any long interval in their performance 
■ — they required no Prologue for this reason to hold them all 
together. The "Henry V" was the triumphal completion of the 
story which these had begun. But if the disastrous continuation 
of the story had been the work of another man, we doubt whether 
Shakspere would have desired thus emphatically to carry for- 
ward the connexion. . . . Malone holds that, to a certain extent, 
they were connected in their authorship, and that this connexion 
is implied in the address to the favour of the audience "for the 
sake of these old and popular dramas which are so closely con- 
nected with it; and in the composition of which, as they had for 
many years been exhibited, he had so considerable a share.'' This 
is the point we desire to examine. We hold that Shakspere asso- 
ciates these dramas with his own undoubted work, because he 
was their sole author.^ 

A second edition followed in 1602, and a third in 1608, all 
anonymous. It did not appear again in print until it was 
published in the Folio, again rewritten and enlarged to nearly 
double its former length. Says Knight : — 

Not only is the play thus augmented by the additions of the 
choruses and new scenes, but there is scarcely a speech, from the 
first scene to the last, which is not elaborated. In this elaboration 
the old materials are very carefully used up; but they are so 
thoroughly refitted and dovetailed with what is new, that the 
operation can only be compared with the work of a skilful archi- 
tect, who, having an ancient mansion to enlarge and beautify, 
with a strict regard to its original character, preserves every 
feature of the structure, under other combinations, with such 
marvelous skill, that no unity of principle is violated, and the 
whole has the effect of a restoration in which the new and the 
old are indistinguishable. Unless we were to reprint the original 
copy, page by page, with the present text, it would be impossible 
to convey a satisfactory notion of the exceeding care with which 
this play has been recast.^ 

^ Knight, Histories, vol. ii, p. 403. * Ibid., vol. i, p. 309. 

142 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

That "The Famous Victories" does not bear the same rela- 
tion to "The Chronicle History" as the latter does to "Henry 
V" of the Folio, is simply an opinion as fanciful and unreliable 
as the many we have quoted, and that in the flush of the 
author's maturer powers he rewrote his youthful works seems 
the more reasonable view. 

Henry VI is perhaps the best example of the futile manner 
in which Stratfordian critics test the patience of their readers. 
This drama in three parts, or really three separate dramas, 
was first printed in the Folio. 

Let us first listen to Malone, the pioneer in this sort of 
criticism : — 

My hypothesis ... Is that "the first part of King Henry VI," 
as it now appears . . . was the entire or nearly the entire produc- 
tion of some ancient dramatist; that "The Whole Contention 
of the two Houses of York and Lancaster," etc., written prob- 
ably before the year 1590, and printed in quarto, in 1600, was 
also the composition of some writer who preceded Shakspear; 
and that from this piece, which is in two parts — our poet 
formed the two plays entitled, "The Second and Third Parts 
of King Henry," as they appear in the first folio edition of his 
works. 

The first notice of this play that we have is in Henslowe's 
" Diary "which records its production on the 3 dof March, 1 591- 
92.^ In the same year Thomas Nash makes a quotation from 
the first part of the play which clearly identifies it. From the 
third part, Robert Greene makes a quotation in the same year, 
1592, which shows that this part was then in existence. Of the 
second part we have no contemporary notice, but it is reason- 
able to assume that the composition of the different parts 
was synchronous. The editors of the Folio Reprint conclude 
that the first part belongs to the year 1589 or 1590. 

The first part was unknown in print until it appeared in the 

^ The Diary of Philip Henslozve, p. 22. London, 1 845. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Folio seven years after the actor's death. The second part was 
pubHshed anonymously in 1594, and twice in 1600, and the 
third part in 1595. In 1619, three years after the actor's death, 
the second and third parts were published as "written by 
William Shakespeare Gent." The publisher, Pavier, however, 
had published works by other writers under the same title, 
which renders this evidence of authorship valueless, and so we 
are left wholly to rely upon the fact that Heminge and Con- 
dell thought it proper to admit them into the Folio. Let us 
see how the commentators handle this problem, and, first, 
Malone : — 

"The First Part of King Henry VI " may be referred to the 
year 1589, or to an earlier period. 

Yes, probably a considerably earlier period, sufficiently 
earlier to bar the actor's authorship of it, but not the author- 
ship of the man who later enlarged and improved it. 

He speaks thus of the second and third parts : — 

In a Dissertation annexed to these plays, I have endeavoured 
to prove that they were not written originally by Shakespeare, 
but formed by him on two preceding dramas. . . . My principal 
object in that Dissertation was, to show that these two old plays 
which were printed in 1600, were written by some writer or 
writers who preceded Shakespeare, and moulded by him, with 
many alterations and additions, into the shape in which they at 
present appear, — and if I have proved that point, I have ob- 
tained my end. . . . Towards the end of the Essay I have pro- 
duced a passage from the old "King John" 1591, from which it 
appeared to me probable that the two elder dramas which com- 
prehend the greater part of the reign of King Henry VI, were 
written by the author of " King John," whoever he was ; and some 
circumstances which have lately struck me, confirm an opinion 
which I formerly hazarded, that Christopher Marlowe was the 
author of that play. A passage in his historical drama of "King 
Edward II," which Dr. Farmer has pointed out to me since the 
Dissertation was printed, also inclines me to believe with him, 
that Marlowe was the author of one, if not both, of the old dramas 
on which Shakespeare formed the two plays, which in the first 

144 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

folio edition of his works are distinguished by the titles of "The 
Second and Third Parts of King Henry VL" ^ 

Malone then wrote his dissertation without knowing any- 
thing about the drama of "Edward H," yet to pose as an 
authority on the plays he was criticizing, he should have fa- 
miliarized himself with this work. 

Anent this we will listen to Phillipps : — 

Although Shakespeare had exhibited a taste for poetic com- 
position before his first departure from Stratford-on-Avon, (?) 
all traditions agree in the statement that he was a recognized 
actor before he joined the ranks of the dramatists. (?) This latter 
event appears to have occurred on the third of March, I592,(?) 
when a new drama, entitled "Henry the Sixth," was brought 
out — under an arrangement with Henslowe — to whom no 
doubt the author had sold the play.(?) ^ In this year, — Shake- 
speare was first rising into prominent notice, so that the history 
then produced, now known as the "First Part of Henry the 
Sixth," was, in all probability, his earliest complete dram,atic 
work. . . . The "Second Part of Henry the Sixth," must have 
appeared soon afterwards, but no record of its production on the 
stage has been preserved. . . . The "Third Part of Henry the 
Sixth" was written previously to September, 1592, and hence 
it may be concluded that all Shakespeare's plays on the subject 
of that reign, although perhaps subsequently revised in a few 
places by the author, were originally produced in that year. ( ?) 

And he concludes that the theory 

which best agrees with the positive evidences is that which con- 
cedes the authorship of the three plays to Shakespeare. ^ 

While we take issue with Phillipps on several points, es- 
pecially that he was a recognized actor before he joined the 
ranks of the dramatists, his conclusion that it sprung from 
the brain which conceived Hamlet will stand the final test. 

^ Johnson and Steevens, The Plays of William Shakespeare, vol. 11, pp. 243- 
45. London, 1803. 

* We have marked some statements with a query in above quotation simply 
to show how so conscientious a writer as Phillipps is forced to regale us with 
mere assumptions. 

' Phillipps, Outlines, etc., vol. i, pp. 97-99. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Knight, repudiating Malone's "verbal subtleties," in- 
forms us that 

Mr. Collier says "that they (that is all the early parts of 'Henry 
VI') were all three in being before Shakspere begun to write for 
the stage.'''' Mr. Hallam, not quite so strongly observes: "It 
seems probable that the old plays — and the 'True Tragedy of 
Richard Duke of York,' which Shakspere remodelled in the 
Second and Third Parts of 'Henry V were in great part by 
Marlowe. ... In default of a more probable claimant I have 
som^etimes been inclined to assign the 'First Part of Henry VI' 
to Greene." Such opinions render it impossible that we should 
dissent from Malone's theory rashly and lightly. But still we 
must dissent wholly and uncompromisingly. The opinion which 
we have not incautiously adopted is, in brief, this, — that the 
three disputed plays are, in the strictest sense of the word, Shak- 
spere's own plays; that in connexion with "Richard III" they 
form one complete whole, — the first great Shaksperian series 
of Chronicle Histories; — that although in connection with all 
the Histories, they might each have been in some degree formed 
upon such rude productions of the early stage as the "Famous 
Victories" and "The True Tragedy of Richard III," the theory 
of the remodelling of the Second and Third Parts upon two other 
plays of a higher character, of which we possess copies. Is alto- 
gether fallacious, the "First Part of the Contention," and the 
"Richard Duke of York" (more commonly called the "Second 
Part of the Contention") being, in fact, Shakspere's own work, 
in an imperfect state; — and that their supposed inferiority to 
Shakspere's other works, are referable to other circumstances 
than that of being the productions of an author or authors who 
preceded him. "It is plausibly conjectured," says Mr. Collier, 
"that Shakespeare never touched the 'First Part of Henry 
VI' as it stands In his works, and it is merely the old play on 
the early events of that reign, which was most likely written 
about 1589." Dr. Drake, in the fulness of his confidence in this 
plausible conjecture, proposes entirely to exclude the play from 
any future editions of Shakspere's works, as a production which 
"offers no trace of any finishing strokes from the master- 
bard." 

Knight then enters into a lengthy and minute comparison 
of the different parts of his subject to prove his contention, 

146 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

and with relation to the remodeUng of the works of other 

authors, observes : — 

That the argument upon which Shakspere has been held, in 
England, during the last fifty years, to be one of the most 
unblushing plagiarists that ever put pen to paper, has been 
conducted throughout in a spirit of disingenuousness almost 
unequalled In literary history.^ 

But what would Knight have thought of this ? — 

Criticism has proved beyond doubt that in these plays Shake- 
speare did no more than add, revise and correct other men's work. 
The theory that Greene and Peele produced the original draft 
of the three parts of "Henry VL" which Shakespeare recast, 
may help to account for Greene's Indignant denunciation of 
Shakespeare. . . . Much can be said too In behalf of the sugges- 
tion that Shakespeare joined Marlowe, ... In the first revision 
of which "The Contention," and the "True Tragedle" were the 
outcome. Most of the new passages in the second recension 
seem assignable to Shakespeare alone, but a few suggest a part- 
nership resembling that of the first revision. It is probable that 
Marlowe began his final revision, but his task was interrupted 
by his death, and the lion's share of the work fell to his younger 
coadjutor. Shakespeare shared with other men of genius that 
receptivity of mind which impels them to assimilate much of the 
intellectual effort of their contemporaries, and to transmute it in 
the process from unvalued ore Into pure gold.^ 

Courthope, one of our best later critics, unhesitatingly con- 
cedes the early authorship question in these words : — 

A long controversy has raged round the question of the au- 
thorship of these various early plays. By the older Germans, 
and some of the earlier English commentators, they were assigned 
without much investigation, to Shakespeare; by almost all the 
English and American critics since Malone (whose opinions have 
been adopted by many of the modern Germans) Shakespeare 
has been regarded either as a partner In the plays with other 
dramatists, or as the unblushing plagiarist of other men's work, 
— I need only here repeat — my conviction that the elder Ger- 

^ Knight, Supplement to vol. ii, pp. 403, 404, 414. Collier, Annals of the 
Stage, vol. Ill, p. 145. Drake, Shakspere and his Times, vol. 11, p. 297. 
^ Lee, A Life of Shakespeare, pp. 59-61. London, 1898. Italics ours. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

man critics were right, and the later English wrong, and that 
Shakespeare alone was the author not only of "The Contention" 
and "The True Tragedy" but of "Titus Andronicus." "The 
Taming of a Shrew," and "The Troublesome Raigne of King 
John." 1 

This opinion is bravely expressed and will inevitably be 
adopted in the future, though it prove fatal to Stratfordian 
interests represented by Lee who delights in telling us just 
how the case stands. 

Readers who have not made a critical study of the futile 
opinions of Stratfordian commentators — 

That like a shifted wind upon a sail 
Startles and frights consideration — 

no doubt will be surprised to find that authors, whom they 
have heretofore regarded with respectful attention, have been 
regaling them with merely glittering speculations, all because 
of a faulty premise ; for no one should doubt that if the actor 
had been born four years earlier than he was, and had dis- 
tinguished himself early by learning and genius, there would 
have existed no reason for the idle and conflicting theories 
with which they have struggled so long and so laboriously. 

Perhaps here it may not be out of place to quote Phillipps 
again: — 

There have arisen in these days critics who, dispensing alto- 
gether with the older contemporary evidences, can enter so per- 
fectly into all the vicissitudes of Shakespeare's intellectual tem- 
perament, that they can authoritatively identify at a glance 
every line that he did write, and with equal precision every sen- 
tence that he did not. . . . Lowlier votaries can only bow their 
heads in silence. 

Perhaps these words apply as directly to the wild specula- 
tions of those who have wasted so much time on the mystery 
of Mr. W. H., and the hidden meaning of the Sonnets. Vol- 

» Courthope, W. J., C.B., M.A., D.Litt., LL.D., A History of English 
Poetry, vol. iv, p. 55. London, 1903, 

148 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

umes have been written to identify numerous individuals with 
these initials. Phillipps briefly dismisses these many futile 
conjectures in this manner, first explaining that Thorpe, the 
publisher, obtained a copy of the "Sonnets" surreptitiously 
of a friend of the author : — 

Thorpe — the zv ell-wishing adventurer — was so elated with 
the opportunity of entering into the speculation that he dedi- 
cated the work to the factor in the acquisition, one Mr. W. H., 
in language of hyperbolical gratitude, designating him as the 
"only begetter," that is, to the one person who obtained the en- 
tire contents of the work for the use of the publisher, the verb, 
beget^ having been occasionally used In the sense of get. 

And he quotes from Dekker's " Satiromastix," 1602, and re- 
fers to "Hamlet," HI, ii, to show this, continuing: — 

The notion that begetter stands for inspirer could only be re- 
ceived were one individual alone the subject of all the poems; 
and, moreover, unless we adopt the wholly gratuitous conjecture 
that the Sonnets of 1609 were not those which were in existence 
in 1598, had not the time somewhat gone by for a publisher's 
dedication to that object.? ^ 

The most interesting, if futile, article on the subject has 
been written by Oscar Wilde ; but the wildest of all the specu- 
lations upon the "Sonnets" have been expended upon their 
hidden meaning, especially, by the advocates of the "dark 
lady" fiction, who show to what the efforts of the speculative 
commentators we have quoted lead. Excited by their example, 
some neurotic genius enters their alluring field, and startles us 
by his dexterity. Thus we have a well-written book devoted 
to the exploitation of the impossible theory that the play of 
"Henry V" is an autobiography en detail of the Stratford 
actor, written, we are told, after the writer had " shed tears of 
regret" over the "untimely fate" of Huth who wrote a life of 
Buckle. 

This book is a striking example of what an ingenious specu- 

^ Phillipps, Outlines, etc., vol. i, p. 226; vol. 11, p. 305. 
149 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

lator can accomplish with the mass of biographical material 
which is at hand to parallel almost any life ; nor does he travel 
far to find a suggestion for such work, for the pulpit often uses 
the story of the forty years' wandering in the wilderness to 
justly parallel the experiences of a human life. 

Of course, the early roystering of the actor is used with ef- 
fect ; the young king, when a prince, was a roysterer like most 
others of his ilk, but the actor, "had got beyond roystering; he 
had sounded the depths of folly, and, having discovered its un- 
profitableness, had now become an earnest thinker and hard 
worker." But is this quite true? What about that last royster- 
ing from which he contracted a "feavour" which caused his 
death ?^ But this, perhaps, is enough, and we will refer to a 
still wilder flight. 

Mary Fitton was a maid of honor to Elizabeth. She was a 
brunette, not especially handsome, but fascinating. Gay and 
vivacious, utterly devoid of moral sense, she scandalized the 
far from sanctified court of the Virgin Queen by having a child 
by William Herbert, the Earl of Pembroke, and, in 1601, was 
banished from court, and her lover imprisoned. How many 
times she was married is not clear, but several times, while in 
the genealogy of her family she is put down as having " had one 
bastard by Wm., E. of Pembroke, and two bastards by Sir 
Richard Leveson, Kt." This brings her before us with suffi- 
cient distinctness. 

In 1597, "Love's Labours Lost" had been enacted at the 
Court Festivities, and from this fact alone volumes have been 
written to show that "probably" she then became acquainted 
with the actor, and that the dark lady frequently mentioned 
in the "Sonnets" was Mary Fitton. Brandes concludes from 
the words, "but being both from one," in Sonnet cxliv, 
"That the Dark Lady did not live with Shakespeare" ; and he 
confidently assures us that 

^ Robert Waters, William Shakespeare Portrayed by Himself, pp. 6-8. New 
York, 1888. 

ISO 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

It may be gathered from Sonnet cli with the expressions 
"triumphant prize," "proud of this pride," that she was greatly 
his superior in rank and station, so that her conquest for some 
time filled him with a sense of triumph. 

But have not lovers from time immemorial in the same, and 
in every station of life, expressed themselves in "a sense of 
triumph" ? From this shaky platform our new author, Harris, 
takes his daring flight, and asseverates as he rises: "We can 
tell in his works the very moment he saw her"; and he ac- 
credits to her influence the actor's triumph in dramatic art. 
Thus we have for the first time the secret of the actor's su- 
premacy in art ; — the illicit love of a depraved woman ! It 
is rather startling, to say the least, but no more so than the 
chorus of approval from many throats, for his biographers 
have painted him in such a manner that whatever such writers 
as Rolfe, or Brandes, or Harris, and others may rake up of a 
disreputable nature does not seem in the least disturbing, but 
something quite accordant with his accepted character. Let 
us quote farther: — 

This woman dominated all Shakespeare's maturity from 1597 
to 1608, and changed him from a light-hearted writer of comedies, 
histories, and songs, into the greatest man who has left record of 
himself in literature, the author of half a dozen masterpieces, 
whose names have become tragic symbols in the consciousness 
of humanity. 

How about "Hamlet," called by critics the greatest of his 
works, and which some biographers claim was a youthful pro- 
duction carried on his flight to London in his pocket ^ 

But she, though a common strumpet, was a 

fine lady, and he a poor peasant, and so they put upon him a 
servant's livery by way of making him respectable. Never since 
the Crown of Thorns was there such mindless mockery. 

The reader's patience is requested a moment longer: — 

Two groups of qualities in Mary Fitton seem to have struck 
Shakespeare almost from the beginning: her cunning pretence of 

151 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

restraint gilding utter wantonness, and her dominant personality 
armed with quick wit and quicker temper, — this magic of per- 
sonality and high-splrlted witty boldness were clearly the quali- 
ties Shakespeare most admired In his mistress, just as the cunning 
wiles and wantonness were the "foul faults" he raved against 
In both sonnets and plays. 

And so he modeled all his heroines from her, — Beatrice, 
Cleopatra, Juliet, Portia, Rosalind, Viola, — idealistic but 
truthful in depicting her "infinite variety: the figures cast no 
shadow and are, therefore, in so far unreal." The actor's 
passion culminates in spite of the fact that she is a "fine lady" 
and he a "poor player"; and "he finally loses faith in his 
gypsy mistress, and, his love purged of trust and affection, 
hardens to lust and rages with jealousy in 'Hamlet' and 
* Othello.'" And so the author raves through "Lear" and 
"Timon": — 

Written at a time when the author tasted the very bitterness 
of despair and death — after "TImon" there Is no more to be 
said : we can follow his descent to the alternate suffering by the 
stains of his bleeding feet on the flints and thorns of the rough 
way. ... A little later, when he wrote "Trollus and Cresslda" 
and "Antony and Cleopatra," the sky had grown lighter again, 
and the sun shone through the clouds. It is the St. Martin's 
summer, so to speak, of his passion; the warmth and sunshine 
and ecstacy of joy are in It.^ 

But she left him for another of many paramours, and in 
1608, — Mr. Harris gives us the precise time, — the poor 
actor left London forever, betaking himself to Stratford a sick 
and broken man. His biographers have all represented him 
heretofore as enjoying himself in trade, the loaning of money, 
litigation, tavern bouts, and accumulation of real estate ; in- 
deed, we are told that he passed the happy and dignified life 
of a rich country gentleman. Our author tells us that hence- 
forth his daughter Judith was his model for the heroines of 

^ Frank Harris, The Man Shakespeare and His Tragic Life Story. New York, 
1909. 

152 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

his last plays. We see her as Marina in " Pericles," as Perdita 
in "Winter's Tale," Miranda in "The Tempest," and finally, 
his own wife as the shrew, Adriana, in " Comedy of Errors." 
There seems to be no end of this new type of paranoia. Should 
it invade history what havoc would it create ! It is positively 
alarming. 

But why are such books written ? Perhaps this may be an- 
swered by a reply made some time since to a similar question 
put by the late Edward Weeks. We were in the Paris Salon 
looking at three large canvases sufficiently well painted to en- 
title them to the honor of a place on the line. One represented 
a large hog stretched on a platform with his throat cut, the 
blood oozing from the gaping gash, and the butcher with a dis- 
agreeable smirk of professional pride standing near with the 
bloody knife. To accentuate the ghastliness of the scene there 
was a wreath of crimson roses twined about the cadaver. The 
second canvas represented an old apple tree, on a gnarled 
limb of which sat a naked woman, shrinking from her thorny 
seat which was lacerating her tender flesh. The other picture 
was a Mary Fitton in flaming scarlet, every detail of which 
was fascinatingly repulsive. Why were these pictures painted ? 
we asked; and Weeks replied: "The painters want to create 
a sensation, and draw public attention to their work, which, 
otherwise, might pass unnoticed, while all Paris now is talking 
about them." When it was objected that no one would buy 
them he replied: "They will sell readily enough to proprietors 
of evil resorts; there are enough to buy such monstrosities": 
in other words, people of good taste are in a minority, and it 
may be less profitable to cater to them than to those of bad 
taste. The writing of such books as this from which we have 
quoted is prompted by the same corrupt taste as that which 
prompted the production of the paintings described; they are 
not works of art but of delirium. 

One of the most sensational exhibitions of futile speculation 
which has been indulged in by an erratic writer who seems 

153 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

to be deficient of moral sense, is by W. G. Thorpe, a Strat- 
fordian, who has made a remarkable discovery which is going, 
as he claims, to cause a rewriting of the actor's life. If this 
discovery is to be believed, the actor was much more dis- 
reputable than his greatest "detractors" have ever supposed. 
Some of his biographers have expressed surprise that so little 
is known of him during the five years between his advent in 
London and the date of the appearance of the "Venus and 
Adonis"; namely, between 1587 and 1592. Why there should 
be anything strange in the fact that a poor country lad in a 
city like London in this stirring period of Elizabeth's reign 
should not get mentioned in the annals of the age, we do not 
know ; there were thousands who were not ; but here are five 
years of mystery which must be cleared up and a new field for 
the right man to exploit. 

Thorpe's discovery is a certain historical excerpt familiar to 
any student of the period, and to make his subject as startling 
as possible, he prints the following statements in red ink: — 

(i) That Shakespeare, at all events up to 1597, kept a gold, 
silver, and "copper" hell, carrying on this last in the open streets 
with yokels, and putting on workman's dress in order to appear 
to be on their level and thus more easily gain their confidence. 

(2) That by this means he supplied the wants of his "hungry 
famylee." (One of Mr. Halliwell's standing puzzles.) 

(3) That he purchased New Place out of the money got by 
rooking an infant young gentleman: these circumstances being 
matter of notoriety among his townsmen and neighbors, gentle 
and simple. 

Now take another tack: 

(A) That deer stealing was felony punishable at the Star 
Chamber, for which Bacon (practically the Public Prosecutor 
until he became Chancellor) prosecuted two men separately as 
late as 1614. 

(B) That hence, if an information was laid, it was in Bacon's 
power to have dealt similarly with Shakespeare any time be- 
tween the date of the offence in 1587 and the 1614 aforesaid. 

(C) That if Bacon did not so prosecute, but rather protected 
him there must have been good (Baconian) reason for it. Now 

154 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Bacon blackmailed everybody, and hunted his patron Essex to 
the death for money. 

(D) Thirteen years after his Hegira from Stratford, Shake- 
speare's offence was remembered and cast up against him. He had 
fled for very fear. Can this be the reason why he did not revisit 
his native town for ten years, and then only for his son's funeral, 
when pity might stay the hand of the avenger.? Can this, too, 
be the cause why he "lay low" and kept out of sight In London, 
lived in a Bankside lodging, and did not ruffle it bravely as did 
Henslowe, Alleyne, and Burbage, actor managers like himself.'' 
Here are two more of the conundrums Mr. Halliwell despaired 
of solving. 

(E) Shakespeare was completely in Bacon's power by the 
double ties of profitable em.ployment flowing inwards, and the 
fear of the terror of the law which stood ready at Bacon's hand. 
We know that Bacon cadged for the smallest item of "copy" 
for the Twickenham Scrivenery, so that Shakespeare's theatre 
writing would not pass overlooked. 

Now comes this in black ink : — 

And yet, as often happens, the victim had (perhaps from some 
hold springing out of Bacon's private life) a back pull which 
enabled him to constrain his master to put off another pressing 
creditor (as we know he did) and pay him out of Catesby's fine, 
really the blood money for which he had sold Essex, the amount 
which paid for the Combe estate; yet one more point which 
puzzled Mr. Halliwell as he plaintively confesses. 

And now this rare touch of modesty and philanthropy: — 

It may be, gentle reader, — I trust, indeed, it is, — that this 
investigation which I have had the happy chance to open, may, 
if followed up by abler hands, throw more light still on this 
hitherto unworked inquiry. I do but ask you to be not shocked 
by the announcement, but courageously compare, side by side, 
the baseless theory of a glorified superhuman Shakespeare with 
the hard facts which I endeavour in this book to oppose to 
it. 

I make Shakespeare neither better nor worse than any other 
man. I bow before and acknowledge his marvellous talents and 
gifts. I in no way impeach the authorship of his works — I but 
show the man as he was, hardly tried, with all possible means of 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

earning a living denied him, yet doing his best, and a desperate 
best, too, to keep the wolf from the door of those whom he loved, 
and whose daily bread he must, at all hazards, provide.^ 

And this astounding piece of impertinence, to intensify its 
dramatic flavor, is dated on "New Year's Eve." It is a New 
Year's present to the world, too precious to be announced 
save upon that day of universal good will and generosity. 

The discovery upon which this is all based is the following 
from Harrington, which may well refer to the actor, but where 
Bacon comes in is a mystery beyond the art of Harris, Clelia, 
Mrs. Kintzel, or Lee, et id genus omne, to divine : — 

There is a great show of popularyte In playing small game — 
as we have heard of one that shall be nameless (because he was 
not blameless) that with shootynge seaven up groates among 
yeomen, and goinge in plain apparell, had stolen so many hartes 
(for I do not say he came trewly by them) that he was accused 
of more than fellony. . . . Pyrates by sea, robbers by land, have 
become honest substanciall men as we call them, and purchasers 
of more lawfull purchase. With the rulne of infant young gentle- 
men, the dyeing box maintains a hungry famylee.^ 

That Stratfordians accept Thorpe is evinced by his own 
statements, and by the fact that the present writer possesses 
the presentation copy of his work to the late Samuel Timmins 
with the following : — 

Dear Mr. Timmins: — 

To you to whom this book owes so much, the first copy (saving 
that used for copyright) 

With grateful thanks 

W. G. T. 

And on the title-page is Mr. Timmins's autograph, — 

With the compliments of 
Sam: Timmins. 

Arley, Coventry. 

^ Thorpe, Thf Hidden Lives of Shakespeare, etc. 
* Nuga Antiques, vol. i, p. 219. 

IS6 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

The quotations we have given from many of the best- 
known commentators and critics glaringly reveal the unrelia- 
bility of their opinions, and the impossibility of reconciling the 
personality and life of the Stratford actor with the author- 
ship of the works they so facilely concede to him ; especially 
is this true when we consider those of them, all anonymous, 
which were in existence at or near the time when he reached 
London. These have proved to be a stumbling-block of an- 
noying immobility to those interested in the case of their fa- 
vorite client, and have caused a division among them. 

On the one hand, the crass and ready method has been 
adopted of assuming that there were old works, some lost, 
which their client appropriated and altered, at a period, of 
course, as late as possible, to allow a certain margin of time 
for him to acquire a modicum of education. It is edifying to 
note how some of these critics endeavor to stretch this period 
as much as possible, and others to minimize the significance 
of the erudition displayed in the works they ascribe to him, so 
as to give some color of reasonableness to their assumptions. 
Had none of these anonymous works survived to vex them, 
this procedure would have possessed plausibility ; but several 
of them are still extant, showing, as a rule, more or less imma- 
turity, but possessing internal evidence which identifies them 
beyond question with the admittedly orthodox works. On the 
other hand, a bolder and more difficult position has been 
chosen by some who set out by admitting that the author of 
the works as they now exist was the author of the early anon- 
ymous ones, and, ignoring the necessity of education to account 
for the almost pedantic display of learning in them, — much 
of it so marked as to excite the admiration of the greatest 
scholars, — they go so far as to assert that they were the 
product of pure genius, free from those trammels imposed by 
the necessity of education upon mankind. The enthusiasts 
who adopt this method of explaining how the actor could have 
written poems and dramas while leading a life so disgraceful 

157 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

that it subjected him to the degradation of being driven out of 
his native town, though a married man, and father of children, 
are not in the least fazed by the fact that the works they 
ascribe to him exhibit a knowledge of several languages ; of the 
rarest books of the age — though Stratford was bare of books, 
and there was not a public or even private circulating library 
in London ; of the rules of poetic composition ; of etymology ; 
of law; philosophy; medicine; botany; the natural history of 
his time, and much more; but jauntily assert that genius, as 
in the case of Burns, accounts for it all, though the simple and 
hom^ely lyrics of Burns display nothing of the kind. Certainly 
the position of these visionaries is so pathetically untenable as 
to quite reconcile us with their more cautious brethren, the 
old play advocates, who make their client a plagiarist of the 
first water; a logical position, at least, considering the char- 
acter they unblushingly accord him. To these old play-ad- 
vocates Knight refers when he declares, referring to Malone, 
that if the actor had done all he represented him to have done, 
namely: "New versify, new model, transpose, amplify, im- 
prove, and polish, he would have been essentially a dishonest 
plagiarist." Of course, this applies equally to Lee, Collins, 
Robertson, those German critics who have followed the Eng- 
lish lead, and other Stratfordians who have adopted the opin- 
ions of earlier commentators, without any effort at originality. 
Such commentators will doubtless continue to thrash out the 
same musty straw to the edification of those who are con- 
tented with such results, for there is no literary work which 
brings to orthodox writers such a satisfying reputation for 
" scholarship " as a rehash of the speculations of the old Shak- 
sperian commentators however stale they may be. 

The most remarkable achievement of this kind has been 
performed by Furness, whose work^ has been declared to be 
"a monument of Shakespearean scholarship," which will im- 

^ Horace Howard Furness, Ph.D., LL.D., A New Fariorum Edition of 
Shakespeare. Philadelphia and London. 

158 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

mortalize its author. This may be true, for folly as well as 
wisdom has immortalized men, and if any man has ever 
blindly devoted his life to futile work it is Furness. Take his 
"Hamlet" as an example. This play comprises an equivalent 
of eighty-six pages of one of the two sumptuous volumes, 
comprising nine hundred pages of notes and similar literary 
material. As this matter is in finer print than the play, it 
would make, if printed in type of the same size, over fourteen 
pages of notes to every page of text. Such a monumental ex- 
ample of annotation gone mad, exhibiting the most offensive 
pedantry, should indeed immortalize its author, whose chau- 
vinism is so baldly exhibited at the outset in his absurdly mean- 
ingless dedication to the German Shakespeare Society, which 
he designates as being "representative of a people Vv'hose re- 
cent history has proved once for all that Germany is not 

HAMLET." 

In his preface he informs us that the plan of the preceding 
volumes of his work has been 

modified only hy the necessity of making the impossible attempt 
to condense within a certain number of pages a whole literature. 

And so he declares, agreeing with another enthusiast, — 

We are glad to listen to every one who has travelled through 
the kingdom of Shakespeare. Something interesting there must 
be even in the humblest journal; and we turn with equal pleas- 
ure from the converse of those who have climbed over the mag- 
nificence of the highest mountains there, to the lowlier tales of less 
ambitious pilgrims, who have sat on the green and sunny knoll, 
beneath the whispering tree, and by the music of the gentle rivulet. 

This reminds us of Clelia, Harris, Thorpe, and others, and 
gives us a foretaste of what we may expect. Let us take but 
two or three examples at random : — 

Scene I. Elsinore. A platform before the castle. Francisco at his post. 

Enter to him Bernardo. 

Ber. Who's there .^ 
Fran. Nay, answer me; stand, and unfold yourself. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 
Notes on above : — 

Act I.] Actus Primus. Ff, 

Scene I.] Scoena Prima. Fi. Scaena Prima. F2. F4. Scena Prima F3. 

Elsinore.] Cap. 

A platform . . .] Mai. An open Place before the Palace. Rowe, 
Pope. A Platform before the Palace. Theob. + Platform of the Castle. 
Cap. 

Francisco . . .] Dyce. Francisco upon . . . Cap. Enter Bernardo 
and Francisco, two Centinels. QqFf (Bernardo Q4) Rowe + Francisco 
on guard. Sta. 

1-5. Who^s. . . . He] Two lines, the first ending unfold. Cap. Steev. 
Var. Cald. Knt, Coll. White, El. 

I. Who's] Whose Qq. 

1. Wlio's there] Coleridge (p. 148): That Shakespeare meant to 
put an effect in the actor's power in these very first words is evident 
from the impatience expressed by the startled Francisco in the line 
that follows. A brave man is never so peremptory as when he fears 
that he is afraid. Tschischwitz finds a "psychological motive" in thus 
representing Bernardo as so forgetful of all military use and wont as to 
challenge Francisco who is on guard. Evidently Bernardo is afraid to 
meet the Ghost all alone, and it is because he feels so unmanned that 
his last words to Francisco are to bid Horatio and Marcellus make haste. 
(For other instances of irregularities in metre, which may be explained 
by the custom of placing ejaculations, appellations, &c., out of the 
regular verse, see Abbott, § 512. Ed.) 

2. me] Jennens: This is the emphatic word. [Hanmer printed it in 
italics. Ed.] Francisco, as the sentinel on guard, has the right of insist- 
ing on the watch-word, which is given in Bernardo's answer. 

Hor. It would have much amazed you. 
Ham. Very like, very like. Stay'd it long.^ 

Notes on above lines : — 

2355 236. It . . . like.] One line. Cap. Steev. Var. Cald. Knt i, 
Coll. White. 

236, 237. very . . . haste.] One line. Cap. Mai, 

236. Very like, very like.] Very like Qq, Pope +, Jen. El. 

236. like] Claredon : See 11, ii, 336. This use of "like" instead of "likely" 
has become provincial. Congreve (Way of the World, iv, iv) puts it 
into the mouth of the rustic. Sir WilfuU. 

There is more on these perfectly simple words, but this is 
perhaps sufficient. 

Ham. {aside). A little more than kin, and less than kind. 
1 60 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

These lines plainly indicating that the king was kin to him, 
having slain his father, incite Furness to oppress us with the 
equivalent of a page and a third of the text of the play, a fair 
example of the foggy and mischievous nature of the criticism 
in which Stratfordian critics love to indulge : — 

65. kin. . . kind] Hanmer: Probably a proverbial expression for a 
relationship so confused and blended that it was hard to define it. 
Johnson supposes "kind" to be here the German word for child. That 
is, *' I am more than cousin and less than son." This conjecture Steevens 
properly disposes of by requiring some proof that "kind" was ever 
used by any English writer for child. He adds: A jingle of the same sort 
is found in Mother Bombie, 1594, " — the nearer we are in blood, the 
further we must be from love, the greater the kindred is, the less the 
kindness must be." Again, in Gorboduc, 1561, "In kinde a father, 
but not kindelynesse." As "kind," however, signifies nature, Hamlet 
may mean that his relationship had become an unnatural one, as it was 
partly founded on incest. 

Be wary then; best safety lies in fear; 
Youth to itself rebels, though none else near. 

Notes on the word "best" and "safety": — 

43. best] The not uncommon omission of the article before super- 
latives is perhaps to be explained, according to Abbott, § 82, by the 
double meaning of the superlative, which means not only "the best of 
the class," but also "very good." 

43. safety] Francke: See Macb. in, v, 32. Also Velleius Paterculus, 
ii, 218: frequentissimum initium esse calamitatis securitatem. Elze: 
See Tro. & Cress. 11, ii, 14: "the wound of peace is surety. Surety 
secure." 

This should be enough to weary the reader. The most in- 
significant words, "the," "and," "though," "near," are ex- 
ploited in the same dreary manner; yet, when we think of poor 
Furness sitting long years engaged in his literary carpentry, 
patiently copying or directing an apprentice to copy such stuff 
as we have quoted from the mass of books surrounding him, — 
those of the "lowlier pilgrims" as well as of the more daring 
"Who have climbed over the magnificence of the highest 
mountains," — we can have for him nothing but pity, and are 
ready to forgive his harsh treatment of a young friend, who 

161 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

excited his wrath and "tears" by venturing upon such an act 
of sacrilege as putting his hand into an old glove, which Fur- 
ness had deluded himself into believing once belonged to the 
subject of his lifelong idolatry. At the present time seventeen 
volumes of his work have been printed comprising over eight 
thousand pages, a large part of which is of the precise char- 
acter of what we have here quoted ; and though Furness has 
ended his labors, his work is being carried on in the same 
manner by his worthy son, who has admirably learned his 
trade, and can dovetail with the same nicety as his honored 
forbear. The world, therefore, is to be endowed with many 
more volumes, probably no more flawed with erroneous opin- 
ions and positive errors than those already published, a trifling 
matter, as a volume of corrigenda would take care of these 
if not annotated; if they were, it would, of course, require several 
more volumes, and this might be thought desirable in order to 
maintain the "monumental" feature of the work. 

It was estimated many years ago that ten thousand vol- 
umes, large and small, had been written on the "Shakespeare" 
Works. This number should have about doubled by this time, 
and it is but true to say that they constitute such a confusing 
mass of irreconcilable opinions as to be useless to students, 
except as a warning against juggling with glittering theories 
in literary criticism. This, however, can hardly compensate 
for the dissemination of so much fiction, and the imposition 
of useless toil to overworked librarians and callow students. 



V 

A STUDY OF OTHER "SHAKESPEARE" PLAYS 

Among plays bearing the authorial name of William 
Shakespeare, or its initials, we cannot afford to shirk the 
responsibility imposed upon us by our title-page of examining, 
briefly at least, those admitted to the Third Folio, as well as 
several others having quite as good a claim to canonization, 
if we accept contemporary evidence, or the claims of the 
so-called "Cipher Story," to be treated later. 

Sir John Oldcastle, bearing the full name, "William 
Shakespeare," on the title-page, was never disowned by the 
actor, nor disputed by critics until, in 1790, Malone, who then 
almost monopolized the field of speculative criticism, passed 
upon it an unfavorable opinion; indeed, he goes so far as to 
say that he cannot "perceive the least trace of our great poet in 
any part of the play." No less a critic, however, than Schlegel 
declares that this play, "Thomas Lord Cromwell," and 
"Locrine" "are not only unquestionably Shakspere's, but, 
in my opinion, they deserve to be classed among his best and 
maturest works." "Thomas Lord Cromwell" and "Sir John 
Oldcastle" he classes together as biographical dramas, and 
models of their kind, the first in the nature of its subject linked 
to "Henry VIII," and the second to "Henry V." Tieck also 
has no hesitation in assigning these plays to the author of 
"Hamlet." On the other hand, Phillipps, realizing the danger 
of questioning the infallibility of the Canon, rejects, in accord 
with the prevailing policy, the play of "Oldcastle," suggesting 
an old play of that name, while Ulrici ascribes it to an im- 
itator "who tried to model himself upon Shakespeare's style." 

The personalities of Oldcastle and Falstaff have been con- 

163 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

fused unnecessarily by critics. There were real personages of 
both names, but there is nothing in the drama we are consider- 
ing to lead one to suppose that the worthy Sir John was the 
prototype of the selfish and lascivious Falstaff . 

In the "Famous Victories" there is a Sir John Oldcastle, a 
disreputable fellow associated with Prince Henry in his mad- 
cap adventures, whom the public later recognized in Falstaff, 
seemingly to the annoyance of the Cobhams who were allied 
to the Oldcastle family. The following quotations from the 
Prologue to "Sir John Oldcastle," and the Epilogue to the 
second part of "Henry IV," should settle the matter: — 

It is no pamper'd glutton we present, 
Nor aged Councellor to youthful! sinne, 
But one whose virtue shown above the rest, 
A valiant Martyr, and a vertuous Peer. 

For anything I know Falstaff e shall dye of a sweat unless already 
he he kilVd with your hard Opinions: For Old-Castle dyed a Martyr^ 
and this is not the man. 

The First Quarto was printed anonymously in 1600, and 
the Second followed, with "William Shakespeare" on the title- 
page. The play opens with a street quarrel between the fol- 
lowers of Lords Powis and Herbert, which is suppressed by the 
appearance of the judges upon the scene. In the Second, the 
Bishop of Rochester denounces Lord Cobham, or Oldcastle, 
as a heretic. This is followed by a gathering of rebels in Lon- 
don who proclaim Oldcastle their general, and then we have a 
scene between him and the king: — 

K. Henry. 'T is not enough, lord Cobham, to submit; 
You must forsake your gross opinion. 
The bishops find themselves much injured; 
And though, for some good service you have done, 
We for our part are pleas'd to pardon you, 
Yet they will not so soon be satisfied. 
Coh. My gracious lord, unto your majesty, 
Next unto my God, I do owe my life; 
And what is mine, either by nature's gift, 
Or fortune's bounty, all is at your service. 

164 



A STUDY OF OTHER "SHAKESPEARE" PLAYS 

But for obedience to the pope of Rome, 
I owe him none; nor shall his shaveling priests, 
That are in England, alter my belief. 
If out of Holy Scripture they can prove 
That I am in an error, I will yield. 
And gladly take instruction at their hands: 
But otherwise, I do beseech your grace 
My conscience may not be encroached upon, 
K. Henry. We would be loth to press our subjects' bodies, 
Much less their souls, the dear redeemed part 
Of Him that is the ruler of us all: 
Yet let me counsel you, that might command. 
Do not presume to tempt them with ill words, 
Nor suffer any meeting to be had 
Within your house; but to the uttermost 
Disperse the flocks of this new gathering sect. 
Coh. My liege, if any breathe, that dares come forth. 
And say, my life in any of these points 
Deserves the attainder of ignoble thoughts. 
Here stand I, craving no remorse at all. 
But even the utmost rigour may be shown. 

The enemies of Oldcastle finally succeed in poisoning the 
King's mind, and he charges him with treason. Oldcastle, who 
has possessed himself of the proofs of his enemies' traitorous 
designs, presents them to the King who, perceiving his error, 
exclaims : — 

Oh never heard of, base ingratitude! 
Even those I hugge within my bosome most 
Are readiest evermore to sting my heart, 
Pardon me, Cobham, I have done thee wrong; 
Hereafter I will live to make amends. 

But the Bishop seizes the opportunity when the King is 
absent to arrest him and commit him to the Tower, intending 
his execution ; but he escapes with his wife in disguise, and in 
Act V. they appear in "A wood near St. Albans." 

Oldcastle. Come, Madam, happily escapt; here let us sit, 
This place is farre remote from any path. 
And here awhile our weary limbs may rest, 
To take refreshing, free from the pursuite 
Of envious Rochester. 

i6s 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Lady. But where, my Lord, 

Shall we find rest for our disquiet minds? 

There dwell untamed thoughts that hardly stoupe. 

To such abasement of disdained rags. 

We were not wont to travell thus by night, 

Especially on foote. 

Oldcastle. No matter, love; 

Extremities admit no better choice, 
And w^ere it not for thee, say froward time 
Imposde a greater taske, I would esteeme it 
As lightly as the wind that blows upon us; 
But in thy sufferance I am doubly taskt. 
Thou wast not wont to have the earth thy stoole, 
Nor the moist dewy grasse thy pillow, nor 
Thy chamber to be the wide horrizon. 
Lady. How can it seeme a trouble, having you 
A partner with me in the worst I feele? 
No, gentle Lord, your presence would give ease 
To death it selfe, should he now seaze upon me. 
Behold what my foresight hath undertane, 

(heres bread and cheese & a bottle) 
For feare we faint; they are but homeely cates, 
Yet saucde with hunger, they may seeme as sweete 
As greater dainties we were wont to taste. 

Oldcastle. Praise be to Him whose plentie sends both this 
And all things else our mortall bodies need; 
Nor scorne we this poore feeding, nor the state 
We now are in, for what is it on earth, 
Nay, under heaven, continues at a stay? 
Ebbes not the sea, when it hath overthrowne? 
FoUowes not darknes when the day is gone? 
And see we not sometime the eie of heaven 
Dimmd with o'erflying clowdes : theres not that worke 
Of carefull nature, or of cunning art, 
(How strong, how beauteous, or how rich it be) 
But falls in time to ruine. Here, gentle Madame, 
In this one draught I wash my sorrow downe. 



Sir Richard Lee, finding the body of his son who has been 
murdered near the place where Oldcastle has taken refuge, 
discovers the fugitives and arrests them as the murderers. The 
last scene is in "A Hall of Justice" where Oldcastle is charged 
by Lee with the murder. The evidence is against him, as blood 
is found on his clothes and a knife with which he cut his bread 

i66 



A STUDY OF OTHER "SHAKESPEARE" PLAYS 

in the former scene ; but when all hope of proving his innocence 
is gone, the Constable appears with the murderer, and Old- 
castle is declared innocent, and offered asylum in Wales where 
he will be safe from the malice of his enemies. 

Concerning this play a curious question is disclosed by this 
entry in Henslowe's "Diary": — 

This i6th of October '99, received by me Thomas Downton 
of Phillipp Henchlow, to pay Mr. Munday, Mr. Drayton and 
Mr. Wilson, and Hathway for the first parts of the Lyfe of Sir 
John Ouldcasstell, and in earnest of the second parts, for the use 
of the companye ten pownd. 

This is another case precisely like that of "Julius Caesar," 
and, as in that case, the easiest explanation has been resorted 
to by some commentators ; namely, that there were two plays 
of the same title. A better explanation is — that the author 
composed this play, and that it was arranged for the stage by 
professional playwrights who probably cut and changed it in 
many instances, which would account for some of the incon- 
gruities in other plays which have troubled critics. 

Thomas Lord Cromwell. This play, political in its na- 
ture, appeared in 1602, shortly after the Essex Rebellion, and 
Cromwell, having been also Earl of Essex, seems to have at- 
tracted notice to that event. It was first published anony- 
mously, and continued to be played by the company to which 
the Stratford actor was nominally attached, until 1613, when 
it was republished with his initials on the title-page. Farmer 
ascribes its authorship to Heywood, and others to Wentworth 
Smith, but there is nothing whatever, not even its style, to 
give color to such allotment. That it was regarded as a gen- 
uine work of the author of plays in the Canon is evidenced by 
its indorsement by Rowe, Pope, and Walker, who published 
it as "A Tragedy By Shakespear," as late as 1734, and its ac- 
ceptance by the German critics, Ulrici, Tieck, and Schlegel. 

Knight, while condemning it, remarks, "We are acquainted 

167 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

with no dramatic writer of mark or likelihood, who was a con- 
temporary of Shakspere, to whom it may be assigned," yet 
Fleay has expressed a positive belief that the initials signified 
William Sly, an actor unknown as an author. With equal rea- 
son he might have used any other name with the same initials. 
The play begins at Putney in old Cromwell's smithery, the 
din of which disturbs the studies of the hero, his son, who 
complains of it and is reproved by the old man. The proud 
youth indulges in this monologue : — 

Crom. Why should my birth keepe downe my mounting spirit? 
Are not all creatures subject unto time: 
To time, who doth abuse the cheated world, 
And fiUes it full of hodge-podge bastardie.'' 
Theres legions now of beggars on the earth, 
That their originall did spring from Kings: 
And manie Monarkes now whose fathers were 
The riife-raffe of their age: for Time and Fortune 
Weares out a noble traine to beggerie, 
And from the dunghill minions doe advance 
To state and marke in this admiring world. 
This is but course, which in the name of Fate 
Is scene as often as it whirles about: 
The River Thames, that by our doore doth passe, 
His first beginning is but small and shallow. 
Yet keeping on his course, growes to a sea. 
And likewise Wolsey, the wonder of our age. 
His birth as meane as mine, a Butchers sonne, 
Now who within this land a greater man? 
Then, Cromwell, cheere thee up, and tell thy soule, 
That thou maist live to florish and controule. 

The ambitious youth leaves home and enters the employ of 
Antwerp merchants. After various experiences he finds him- 
self in Bononia, and is fortunate enough to rescue the Earl of 
Bedford from captivity. After extensive wanderings he finally 
returns to England and becomes the friend of Wolsey; but 
after the death of the powerful Cardinal, Gardiner, whom he 
has offended, plots for his destruction. 

This scene follows : — 

Crom. Good morrow to my Lord of Winchester 

I know you beare me hard about the Abbie landes. 

i68 



A STUDY OF OTHER "SHAKESPEARE" PLAYS 

Gar. Have I not reason when religion is wronged? 
You had no colour for what you have done. 
Crom. Yes; the abolishing of Antichrist, 

And of this Popish order from our Realme. 

I am no enemy to religion, 

But what is done, it is for Englands good. 

What did they serve for but to feede a sort 

Of lazie Abbotes and of full fed Fryers.'' 

They neither plow, nor sowe, and yet they reape 

The fat of all the Land, and sucke the poo re: 

Looke, what was theirs, is in King Henries handes; 

His wealth before lay in the Abbie lands. 

Gar. Indeede these things you have aledged, my Lord, 
When God doth know the infant yet unborne 
Will curse the time the Abbies were puld downe. 
I pray, now where is hospitality.^ 
Where now may poore distressed people go. 
For to releeve their neede, or rest their bones, 
When weary travell doth oppresse their limmes? 
And where religious men should take them in, 
Shall now be kept backe with a Mastive dogge. 

Gardiner succeeds in his design, and Cromwell is thrown 

into the Tower for treason, where his son is brought to take 

his leave of him. 

Lieu. Here is your sonne, come to take his leave. 
Crom. To take his leave! Come hether, Harry Cromwell. 

Marke, boye, the last words that I speake to thee. 

Flatter not Fortune, neither fawne upon her; 

Gape not for state, yet loose no sparke of honor; 

Ambition, like the plague see thou eschew it; 

I die for treason, boy, and never knew it. 

Yet let thy faith as spotlesse be as mine. 

And Cromwels vertues in thy face shall shine. 

Come, goe along and see me leave my breath. 

And He leave thee upon the floure of death. 

These are the last words before his execution : — 

Hang. I am your deaths man; pray, my Lord, forgive me. 
Crom. Even with my soule. Why, man, thou art my Doctor, 

And bringest me precious Phisicke for my soule. — 

My Lord of Bedford, I desire of you. 

Before my death, a corporall imbrace. 

{Bedford comes to him, Cromzvell imhraces him.) 

169 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Farewell, great Lord, my love I do commend, 
My hart to you; my soule to heaven I send. 

Some of these lines certainly have a Shaksperian ring, if 
not over-distinct. 



LocRiNE. This story was a favorite with the poets. Milton 
introduces it in his "Comus" with these words : — 

There is a gentle nymph not far from hence 

That with moist curb sways the smooth Severn stream, 

Sabrlna is her name, a virgin pure; 

Whilome she was the daughter of Locrine. 

The Tragedy was entered for license in 1594, and printed in 
Quarto in 1595 under the initials "W. S." Steevens accredits 
the authorship to Marlowe, who died a year before it was 
entered on the Register. Knight says that the initials " W. S.'* 
"might, without any attempt to convey the notion that 
'Locrine' was written by Shakspere, have fairly stood for 
William Smith, and in the same way the W. S. of 'Thomas 
Lord Cromweir might have represented Wentworth Smith, 
a well-known dramatic author at the date of the publication 
of those plays." ^ If we refer to Fleay, however, we find that 
Wentworth Smith was "A hack writer, not one scrap of whose 
work was ever thought worth publishing."^ 

Schlegel we have seen says of "Oldcastle," "Cromwell," 
and "Locrine," that they "are not only unquestionably Shak- 
speare's, but deserve to be classed among his best and ma- 
turest works"; and Tieck pronounces "Locrine" to be "The 
earliest of Shakspere's dramas." 

The scene opens with Ate entering in black, amid thunder 
and lightning, illuminating her way with a torch in one hand 
and a sword in the other. A lion pursuing a bear appears, 
then an archer who slays him : — 

^ Knight, The Works of Shakspere, supplemental volume, p. 196. 
2 Fleay, A Chronicle History of the English Stage, p. 299. 

170 



A STUDY OF OTHER "SHAKESPEARE" PLAYS 



Ate. So valiant Brute, the terror of the world, 
Whose only lookes did scarre his enemies. 
The Archer death brought to his latest end. 
Oh what may long abide above this ground, 
In state of blisse and healthfull happinesse. 

Each act Is introduced by Ate in an equally startling man- 
ner. In the first scene Brutus enters borne in a chair, with 
his three sons, Locrine, Camber, and Albanact, his brothers 
and others. Brutus speaks of approaching death, and his 
brothers encourage him with praises of his renown. Brutus, 
however, proceeds to divide his kingdom among his sons, and 
then puts the crown upon the head of Locrine with these 
words : — 

Locrine, stand up, and weare the regall Crowne, 

And thinke upon the stage of Maiestie, 

That thou with honor well maist weare the crown. 

And if thou tendrest these my latest words, 

As thou requirst my soule to be at rest, 

As thou desirest thine owne securitie, 

Cherish and love thy new betrothed wife. 
Locrine. No longer let me wel enjoy the crowne, 

Then I do (honour) peerlesse Guendoline. 
Brutus. Camber. 

Cam. My lord. 

Brutus. The glorie of mine age, 

And darling of thy mother Imogen, 

Take thou the South for thy dominion. 

From thee there shall proseed a royall race. 

That shall maintaine the honor of this land. 

And sway the regall scepter with their hands. 

{turning to Albanact) 

And Albanact, thy fathers onely joy, 

Youngst in yeares, but not the youngst in mind, 

A perfect patterne of all chivalrie. 

Take thou the North for thy dominion, 

A country full of hills and ragged rockes. 

Replenished with fearce untamed beasts, 

As correspondent to thy martiall thoughts. 

Live long, my sonnes, with endlesse happinesse, 

And beare firme concordance amongst yourselves. 

Obey the counsels of these fathers grave. 

That you may better beare out violence. 

171 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Brutus dies amid the lamentations of his friends. 
In the second act, Humber, King of Scythians, enters with 
his followers to dispossess Albanact of his kingdom. 

Hum. At length the snaile doth clime the highest tops, 
Ascending up the stately castle walls; 
At length the water with continuall drops, 
Doth penetrate the hardest marble stone; 
At length we are arrived in Albion. 

In the battle which follows Albanact is defeated and slays 
himself with his own sword. 

Alarme. 

Alba. Nay, let them flie that feare to die the death. 
That tremble at the name of fatall mors. • 
Nev'r shall proud Humber boast or brag himselfe 
That he hath put young Albanact to flight; 
And least he should triumph at my decay, 
This sword shall reave his maister of his life, 
That oft hath sav'd his maisters doubtfuU strife, 
But, oh, my brethren, if you care for me, 
Revenge my death upon his traiterous head. 

Locrine, hearing of the death of his brother, resolves to 
avenge him, and proceeds to follow Humber to Albania. 
Act III, Scene ii, opens on the banks of the river Humber: — 

Hum. Thus are we come, victorious conquerors, 
Unto the flowing currents silver streames, 
Which, in memoriall of our victorie, 
Shall be agnominated by our name, 
And talked of by our posteritie: 
For sure I hope before the golden sunne 
Posteth his horses to faire Thetis plaines. 
To see the water turned into blood, 
And chaunge his blewish hue to rufull red. 

A battle follows and Humber is defeated. 

Hum. Where may I finde some desart wildernesse, 
Where I may breathe out curses as I would, 
And scare the earth with my condemning voice; 

While he is bemoaning his fate the ghost of Albanact ap- 
pears to him, crying vindicta. 

172 



A STUDY OF OTHER "SHAKESPEARE" PLAYS 

Act IV, Scene i, is the Camp of Locrine. Soldiers enter lead- 
ing Estrild, Humber's Queen, whose beauty bewitches Locrine. 

Loc. If she have cause to weepe for Humber's death, 
And shead sault teares for her overthrow, 
Locrine may well bewaile his proper griefe, 
Locrine may moue his owne peculiar woe. 
He, being conquered, died a speedie death, 
And felt not long his lamentable smart; 
I, being conqueror, live a lingring life, 
And feele the force of Cupid's suddaine stroke. 
I gave him cause to die a speedie death, 
He left me cause to wish a speedie death. 
Oh that sweete face painted with natures dye. 
Those roseall cheeks mixt with a snowy white, 
That decent necke surpassing yvorie. 
Those comely brests which Venus well might spite. 
Are like to snares which wylie fowlers wrought. 
Wherein my yeelding heart is prisoner cought. 
The golden tresses of her daintie haire, 
Which shine like rubies glittering with the sunne. 
Have so entrapt poore Locrines lovesick heart. 
That from the same no way it can be wonne. 

Guendoline maddened with jealousy raises with her brother 
an army against her husband, Locrine, who in a battle is de- 
feated. In the scene Locrine enters with Estrilda: — 

Loc, faire Estrilda, we have lost the field; 

Thrasimachus hath wonne the victorie. 

Farewell, faire Estrild, beauties paragon, 
Fram'd in the front of forlorne miseries! 
Nor shall mine eies behold thy sunshine eies. 
But when we meet in the Elysian fields; 
Thither I go before with hastened pace. 

(Slays himself.) 
Est. Break, hart, with sobs and greevous suspirs! 

Streame forth, you teares, from forth my watery eies; 
Helpe me to mourne for warlike Locrines death! 



Shall Estrild live, then, after Locrines death? 
Shall love of life barre her from Locrines sword? 

Locrine, I come; Locrine, I follow thee. 

{Kills herself.) 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Guendoline, finding their bodies, closes the final scene with 
these words : — 

And as for Locrine, our deceased spouse, 
Because he was the sonne of mightie Brute, 
To whom we owe our country, lives and goods. 
He shall be buried in a stately tombe, 
Close by his aged father Brutus' bones, 
With such great pomp and great solemnitie, 
As well beseemes so brave a prince as he. 
Let Estrild lie without the shallow vaults, 
Without the honour due unto the dead, 
Because she was the author of this warre. 
Retire, brave followers, unto Troynovant, 
Where we will celebrate these exequies, 
And place young Locrine in his father's tombe. 

We trust that the reader has been able from these extracts, 
necessarily brief, to get a somewhat intelligent idea of the char- 
acter of this play. We shall show later that many parts of it are 
copied verbatim, or nearly so, from works accredited to Edmund 
Spenser. This, of course, raises several questions. Was Spen- 
ser the author of "Locrine" ? or. Was the author of "Locrine" a 
shameless plagiarist ? or, Did he avail himself of some of his 
old material to serve a new purpose, as authors sometimes do ? 

The Puritan Widow. No play among those admitted to 
the two later Folios has been discredited so generally as this. 
Winstanley ascribed it to Shakspere, and likewise Schlegel, 
who advances the theory that for some reason of his own he 
wished to adopt the style of Jonson. Knight dismisses it con- 
temptuously; Fleay ascribes its authorship to Middleton. It 
was first published in 1607, and contains an allusion to "Rich- 
ard III" and "Macbeth." It can hardly be thought worthy of 
the great dramatist, unless it is regarded as a very youthful 
work which it shows evidence of being. 

The play opens with the widow, surrounded by her brother, 
son, and two daughters weeping over the death of her hus- 
band in which the unfeeling son refuses to join, and is reproved 

174 



A STUDY OF OTHER "SHAKESPEARE" PLAYS 

by the mother. One of the daughters declares that she will 
never be married, and the mother takes a like vow. These 
vows play their part in the comedy as the widow and her 
daughter on one occasion are rescued from unworthy suitors 
and finally marry. 

The chief character is Pyeboard, a dissolute charlatan pos- 
ing as a scholar, whom Dyce, the editor of Peele's Works, rec- 
ognizes as a caricature of Peele, the word, Peel, signifying a 
board with a handle employed by bakers; in other words, 
a pie-board. Pyeboard in describing himself draws a faithful 
portrait of Peele : — 

As touching my profession; the multiplicity of scholars, 
hatched and nourished in the idle calms of peace, makes them, 
like fishes, one devour another; and the community of learning 
has so played upon affections, that thereby almost religion is 
come about to phantasy, and discredited by being too much 
spoken of, in so many and mean mouths. I myself, being a scholar 
and a graduate, have no other comfort by my learning, but the 
affection of my words, to know how, scholar-like, to name what 
I want; and can call myself a beggar both in Greek and Latin. 
And therefore, not to cog with peace, I '11 not be afraid to say, 't is 
a great breeder, but a barren nourisher; a great getter of children, 
which must either be thieves or rich men, knaves or beggars. 

The tricks and quips of Pyeboard furnish most of the 
amusement of the play. 

A Yorkshire Tragedy. This play was founded upon a 
tragedy which occurred in 1604, and was published in 1608, 
with "W. Shake-speare," on the title-page. Knight pro- 
nounces it a " Play of sterling merit in its limited range," and 
is inclined to ascribe it to Heywood.^ Fleay, however, admits 
that "The authorship of this play has not yet been ascer- 
tained."^ Malone would give no decided opinion upon it, 
nor does Phillipps venture to guess at its author, though he 

^ Knight, The Works of Shakspere, supplemental volume, p. 254. 
* Fleay, A Chronicle History, etc., p. 158. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

condemns it, and accounts for the actor's remaining silent about 
the use of his name by assuming that he was probably attend- 
ing to some of his many lawsuits. Hazlitt ascribes its author- 
ship to He3^wood, and Dr. Farmer asserts that "Most certainly 
it was not written by our poet at all." 

The husband, a cruel brute, maddened by excesses and 
jealousy, heaps abuses upon his wife, a woman of angelic 
character. She thus states her desperate situation : — 

Wife. What will become of us? All will away: 
My husband never ceases in expense, 
Both to consume his credit and his house; 
And 'tis set down by heaven's just decree 
That riot's child must needs be beggary. 
Are these the virtues that his youth did promise? 
Dice and voluptuous meetings, midnight revels, 
Taking his bed with surfeits; ill beseeming 
The ancient honour of his house and name? 

Carried away by passion he wounds his wife, kills his two 
children, and leaves their nurse wounded. Not contented with 
this, he takes a horse to seek his third child with murderous 
intent, but is overtaken and arrested. On his way to prison he 
reaches his home, Calverly Hall, where the final scene is enacted. 

Hus. I am right against my house, — seat of my ancestors: 
I hear my wife's alive, but much endanger'd. 

{His wife is brought in.) 

Wife. O my sweet husband, my dear distress'd husband. 
Now in the hands of unrelenting lawe, 
My greatest sorrow, my extremest bleeding: — 
Now my soul bleeds. 

This breaks down his stubborn nature, and declaring that 
the evil spirit has at last left him, he exclaims : — 

Bind him one thousand more, you blessed angels 

In that pit bottomless! Let him not rise 

To make men act unnatural tragedies; 

To spread into a father, and in fury 

Make him his children's executioner; 

Murther his wife, his servants, and who not? 

For that man 's dark, where heaven is quite forgot. 

176 



A STUDY OF OTHER "SHAKESPEARE" PLAYS 

His wife's forgiveness and the sight of his dead children, 
cause him to cry out in agony of spirit : — 

Here's weight enough to make a heart-string crack. 
O, were it lawful that your pretty souls, 
Might look from heaven into your father's eyes. 
Then should you see the penitent glasses melt, 
And both your murthers shoot upon my cheeks! 
But you are playing in the angels' laps, 
And will not look on me, who, void of grace, 
Kill'd you in beggary. 

As he is borne away to prison, we hear his wife in her grief: — 

Dearer than all is my poor husband's life. 
Heaven give my body strength, which is yet faint 
With much expense of blood, and I will kneel. 
Sue for his life, number up all my friends 
To plead for pardon for my dear husband's life. 

The London Prodigal. This play was first published in 
1605, and the title-page bore the name "William Shake- 
speare." Tieck ascribes its authorship to Shakspere. Knight 
rejects it. Fleay says: "This play is certainly by the same 
hand as the * Cromwell.'" ^ 

The following is a brief outline of the play. 

Flowerdale, a merchant, who has left his reckless son, 
Mathew, with his uncle in London, returning from Venice, 
seeks an account of his son's doings, and is told of his vile life. 
The son, returning during the interview, does not recognize 
his father who is disguised, and is informed that his father has 
died, and disinherited him; a piece of news which he receives 
nonchalantly enough. The father loans money to the penni- 
less reprobate, and enters his service under the name of Kester. 
Young Flowerdale desiring to wed Luce, the daughter of 
Sir Lancelot Spurcock, her father compels her to marry the 
miserable spendthrift. To try the temper of the bride the 
father and uncle cause the arrest of the bridegroom after 
the ceremony. Mathew in vain begs his uncle to bail him, and 

^ Fleay, A Chronicle History, etc., p. 300. 
177 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

her miserly father turning against her, he makes her a present 
of a hundred angels which her dastardly husband despoils her 
of and wastes at the gaming-table. The young bride takes 
service as a Dutch wench, and so disappears from public view. 
Mathew Flowerdale goes from bad to worse, and is finally ar- 
rested on a charge of robbery and the murder of his wife, who 
goes to him as he is about to be taken to prison, and throwing 
off her disguise appeals to him: — 

Luce. O master Flowerdale, if too much grief 

Have not stopp'd up the organs of your voice, 
Then speak to her that is thy faithful wife; 
Or doth contempt of me thus tie thy tongue.'' 
Turn not away; I am no ^thiop, 
No wanton Cressid, nor a changing Helen; 
But rather one made wretched by thy loss. 
What! turn'st thou still from me.^ O then 
I guess thee wofull'st among hapless men. 
M. Flow. I am indeed, wife, wonder among wives! 
Thy chastity and virtue hath infus'd 
Another soul in me, red with defame, 
For in my blushing cheeks is seen my shame. 

The father now declares himself to his repentant son, 
whose promises of reformation are so convincing that he is 
restored to the confidence of his friends. Even his hard 
father-in-law concludes the scene in these words : — 

Sir Launc. Well, being in hope you'll prove an honest man, 
I take you to my favour. 

The foregoing, with " Pericles," comprise the seven plays ad- 
mitted to the Third Folio. Knight, however, realizing the claims 
of their titular author to other plays, adds to these in the supple- 
mental volume of his works, " Ardenof Feversham" ; " Edward 
Third"; "George a Greene"; "Fair Em"; "Mucedorus"; 
"The Birth of Merlin"; and "Merry Devil of Edmonton." 

Arden of Feversham should especially gain our attention. 
It was published as early as 1592. How long before this date 
it was written, we have no means of knowing ; but there can 

178 



A STUDY OF OTHER "SHAKESPEARE" PLAYS 

be no doubt that it was the work of a young writer. Like the 
"Yorkshire Tragedy," it is founded upon a local homicide, 
and like that event greatly excited the public mind. Its first 
publication was in Holinshed's "Chronicle" of 1577. As it oc- 
curred, however, in 155 1, it was then an old case with the legal 
fraternity, and served them for reference in similar cases. The 
author, however, had a clearer legal conception of the case 
than the chronicler, and discards certain speculative evidence 
to advantage. Tieck thought well enough of the drama to 
translate it into German, declaring it beyond question a 
Shakspere work. Knight, while hesitating to pronounce posi- 
tive judgment, says : — 

We should be at a loss to assign it to any writer whose name 
is associated with that early period of the drama, except Shak- 
spere.^ 

Brandes regards it as 

certainly one of the most admirable plays of that rich period 
whose merit impresses one even when one reads it for the first 
time in uncritical youth. ^ 

Says Swinburne : — 

The tragic action can hardly seem to any competent reader 
the creature of any then engaged in creation but Shakespeare's. 
Assuredly there is none other known to whom it could be plau- 
sibly or even possibly assigned,^ 

The plot of the play involves the destruction of a husband 
by his wife, he "of a tall and comely presence," she "well 
favored of shape and countenance," and much of its interest 
centers in the providential escapes of the doomed man. 

The scene is opened by Arden, who thus addresses his friend, 

Franklin : — 

Franklin, thy love prolongs my weary life; 
And but for thee, how odious were this life, 

* Knight, The Works of Shakspere, supplemental volume, p. 263. 

2 Brandes, William Shakespeare, vol. I, p. 204. 

' Algernon Charles Swinburne, Shakespeare, p. 15. London, 1909. 

179 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

That shows me nothing, but torments my soul; 
And those foul objects, that offend mine eyes, 
Which make me wish that, for this veil of heaven, 
The earth hung over my head and cover'd me! 
Love-letters post 'twixt Mosbie and my wife, 
And they have privy meetings in the town: 
Frariklin. Be patient, gentle friend, and learn of me 
To ease thy grief and save her chastity: 
Entreat her fair; sweet words are fittest engines 
To raze the flint walls of a woman's breast. 

Alice, the wife, enters and Arden reproves her gently, and 
tells her that in her sleep she uttered the name of Mosbie, her 
suspected lover, but she succeeds in quieting his jealousy for 
the moment. Arden, having departed, Mosbie, "a tailor by 
occupation, a black swart man," meets the deluded woman: — 

Mosbie. Where is your husband ? 

Alice. 'T is now high water, and he is at the quay. 
Mosbie. There let him : henceforward, know me not. 

Alice. Is this the end of all thy solemn oaths? 



Arden to me was dearer than my soul, — 
And shall be still. Base peasant, get thee gone. 

This is but a lover's quarrel and soon ends. Mosbie, finding 
an artist reputed as skilful in poison, who can paint a picture 
which will cause the death of one looking upon it, introduces 
him to Alice Arden. The Charlatan demands for his work the 
hand of Mosbie's sister, her waiting maid, and thus elegantly 
extols his art : — 

For, as sharp-witted poets, whose sweet verse 
Make heavenly gods break off their nectar-draughts, 
And lay their ears down to the lowly earth. 
Use humble promise to their sacred muse; 
So we, that are the poets' favourites. 
Must have a love. Ay, love is the painter's muse, 
That makes him frame a speaking countenance, 
A weeping eye that witnesseth heart's grief. 

During this interview Arden returns, and, after an unpleas- 
ant clash, the gentle Arden accepts Mosbie's protestations of 

1 80 



A STUDY OF OTHER "SHAKESPEARE" PLAYS 

innocence, and the domestic sky is again blue ; but not for long. 
Plot after plot is laid for his life by the infatuated wife, all of 
which Arden escapes. Here is a description of a London ruf- 
fian and thief who had sold stolen plate : — 

Brad. A lean-faced writhen knave, 

Hawk-nos'd and very hollow-eyed; 

With mighty furrows in stormy brows; 

Long hair down to his shoulders curl'd; 

His chin was bare, but on his upper lip 

A mutchado, which he wound about his ear. 
Will. What apparel had he? 
Brad. A watchet satin doublet all to-torn, 

The inner side did bear the greater show; 

A pair of threadbare velvet hose seam-rent; 

A worsted stocking rent above the shoe; 

A livery cloak, but all the lace was off; 

'Twas bad, but yet it serv'd to hide the plate. 

Black Will and Shakebag are engaged to murder Arden, but 
the former while watching for his victim, has his head broken 
by a window which a careless apprentice lets fall while closing 
his master's shop. Providence having again intervened, the 
two ruffians, balked of their prey, discourse in this highly 
poetic strain: — 

Black Will. I tell thee, Greene, the forlorn traveller. 

Whose lips are glued with summer-scorching heat. 
Ne'er long'd so much to see a running brook 
As I to finish Arden's tragedy. 
Shakebag. I cannot paint my valour out with words: 
But give me place and opportunity, 
Such mercy as the starven lioness. 
When she is dry suck'd of her eager young. 
Shows to the prey that next encounters her, 
On Arden so much pity would I take. 

Michael, Arden's serving man, is tampered with by Greene 
the tool of Mosbie, to leave the doors of Arden's room in 
the parsonage where he lodged in London unfastened, so that 
Black Will can reach him. This, however, fails through 
Michael's terror of the crime. This soliloquy, says Knight, 

i8i 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

" in a young poet would not only be promise of future great- 
ness, but it would be the greatness itself. The conception is 
wholly original." 

Michael. Conflicting thoughts, encamped in my breast, 
Awake me with the echo of their strokes; 
And I, a judge who censure either side, 
Can give to neither wished victory. 
My master's kindness pleads to me for life, 
With just demand, and I must grant it him. 
My mistress she hath forc'd me with an oath, 
For Susan's sake, the which I may not break, 
For that is nearer than a master's love: 
That grim-fac'd fellow, pitiless Black Will, 
And Shakebag stern, in bloody stratagem — 
(Two rougher ruffians never liv'd in Kent) 
Have sworn my death if I infringe my vow — 
A dreadful thing to be consider'd of. 
Methinks I see them with their bolster'd hair, 
Staring and grinning in thy gentle face. 
And, in their ruthless hands their daggers drawn, 
Insulting o'er thee with a pack of oaths, 
Whilst thou, submissive, pleading for relief 
Art mangled by their ireful instruments! 
Methinks I hear them ask where Michael is. 
And pitiless Black Will cries, "Stab the slave, 
The peasant will detect the tragedy." 
The wrinkles of his foul death-threatening face 
Gape open wide like graves to swallow men: 
My death to him is but a merriment; 
And he will murder me to make him sport, — 
He comes! he comes! Master Franklin, help; 
Call up the neighbours, or we are but dead. 

Mosbie, who is at Feversham, is also tormented with the 
poignancy of his guilt. 

Mosbie. Disturbed thoughts drive me from company, 
And dry my marrow with their watchfulness: 
Continual trouble of my moody brain 
Feebles my body by excess of drink. 
And nips me as the bitter north-east wind 
Doth check the tender blossoms in the spring. 
Well fares the man, howe'er his cates do taste, 
That tables not with foul suspicion; 

182 



A STUDY OF OTHER "SHAKESPEARE" PLAYS 

And he but pines among his delicates 
Whose troubled mind is stuff'd with discontent. 
My golden time was when I had no gold; 
Though then I wanted, yet I slept secure; 
My daily toil begat me night's repose, 
My night's repose made daylight fresh to me: 
But since I climb'd the top-bough of the tree, 
And sought to build my nest among the clouds, 
Each gentle stirring gale doth shake my bed, 
And makes me dread my downfall to the earth. 

While thus morahzing, Ahce enters, and this scene Knight 
says, is "unmatched by any other writer than Shakspere," 
and that, too, "in a play published as early as 1592, perhaps 
written several years earlier." 

Mosbie. Ungentle Alice, thy sorrow is my sore; 

Thou know'st it well, and 't is thy policy 
To forge distressful looks to wound a breast 
Where lies a heart that dies when thou art sad; 
It is not love that loves to anger love. 
Alice. It is not love that loves to murder love. 

Mosbie. How mean you that.^ 
Alice. Thou know'st how dearly Arden loved me. 

Mosbie. And then — 
Alice. And then conceal the rest, for 't is too bad, 

Lest that my words be carried with the wind. 
And publish'd in the world to both our shames! 
I pray thee, Mosbie, let our spring-time wither; 
Our harvest else will yield but loathsome weeds: 
Forget, I pray thee, what has pass'd betwixt us. 
For now I blush, and tremble at the thoughts. 

Arden, accompanied by Franklin and his unworthy servant, 
now journeys to Rochester where on Rainhamdown, Black 
Will and his accomplices are lying in wait for him. Michael, 
who suspects that he will also be slain with his master, pricks 
his horse so that he halts and is left behind. On the way 
Franklin entertains his friend with a tale. In the nick of time 
Arden is joined by friends, and again the conspirators are 
balked of their prey, but finally, reaching home where Mos- 
bie had concealed the assassin, he is slain. Franklin thus 

183 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

announces to Alice the death of her husband in presence of 
the Mayor and watch who are in pursuit of Black Will : — 

Frank. Arden, thy husband, and my friend, is slain 

I fear he was murder'd in this house. 
And carried to the fields; for from that place, 
Backwards and forwards, may you see 
The print of many feet within the snow. 

The play concludes thus : — 

Gentlemen, we hope you'll pardon this naked tragedy, 
Wherein no filed points are foisted in 
To make it gracious to the ear or eye; 
For simple truth is gracious enough, 
And needs no other points of glozing stuff. 

In other words, the author relates "a plain unvarnished 
tale" without attempt at rhetorical display. 

The Two Noble Kinsmen is among the plays not printed 
in the First Folio, and one which has received the highest com- 
mendation from readers of critical taste. It was first published 
in quarto in 1634, and bears on the title-page, — 

Written by the memorable Worthies of their time, Mr. John 
Fletcher, Gent., and Mr. William Shakspeare, Gent. 

Phillipps refutes this on the ground that the actor never 
collaborated with any writer, and quotes Pope's assertion 
"that there was a tradition to the effect that the whole of 
the 'Two Noble Kinsmen' was written by Shakespeare." ^ 

Says Brandes: — 

"TImon of Athens" and "Pericles," which are plainly only 
partially his work, and "Henry VIII" and "The Two Noble 
Kinsmen," of which we may confidently assert that Shakespeare 
had nothing to do with them beyond the Insertion of single Im- 
portant speeches and the addition of a few valuable touches.^ 

1 Phillipps, Outlines, etc., vol. ii, p. 410. 

"^ Brandes, William Shakespeare, vol. H, p. 275. 

184 



A STUDY OF OTHER "SHAKESPEARE" PLAYS 
And again : — 

Did Shakespeare leave the play unfinished, and was It com- 
pleted by Fletcher after his death? or did he help Fletcher by 
writing or rewriting certain scenes of his play? The first supposi- 
tion Is an utter impossibility, as far as I am concerned.^ 

Brandes then falls back upon Heminge and Condell, extoll- 
ing their authority; but, curiously enough, traverses himself 
and discredits them by discarding "Henry VHI." 

Coleridge gives us this opinion of it : — 

1 can scarcely retain a doubt as to the first act's having been 
written by Shakespeare.^ 

Says Lamb: — 

That Fletcher should have copied Shakespeare's manner in so 
many entire scenes Is not very probable; that he could have done 
it with such facility Is to me not certain. 

Fleay attempts to prove that the play was written after the 
actor's death, but fails to show why Fletcher never claimed 
an interest in it; instead he leaves us in this quagmire: — 

There Is nothing In It above the reach of Masslnger and 
Fletcher, but that some things in it are unworthy either, and 
more likely to be by some Inferior hand, W. Rowley, for Instance.^ 

A score of other contradictory opinions could be given, but 
they would be unprofitable. It may be worth while, however, 
to give a brief synopsis of the play. 

The story of Palamon and Arcite furnishes the material out 
of which is wrought "The Two Noble Kinsmen," and opens 
with the entry of Hymen with flaming torch, conducting to the 
temple Theseus, Hippolyta, her sister Emilia and nymphs, 
singing a nuptial song as they strew the way with flowers. 

^ Brandes, William Shakespeare, vol. ii, p. 316. 

2 "Notes and Lectures on Shakespeare," Literary Remains of S. T. Coleridge, 
vol. I, p. 321. London, 1849. 

* Fleay, A Chronicle History, etc., p. 254. 

I8s 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

The bridal procession is suddenly arrested by three Queens 
in mourning, who call upon Theseus, the bridegroom, to 
avenge the murder of their lords by Creon, King of Thebes : — 

I Queen. Oh, pity, duke! 

Thou purger of the earth, draw thy fear'd sword. 
That does good turns to the world; give us the bones 
Of our dead kings, that we may chapel them! 

The second Queen appeals to the bride : — 

Honour'd Hippolyta, 
that hast slain 
The scythe-tusk'd boar; that, with thy arm as strong 
As it is white, wast near to make the male 
To thy sex captive; but that this thy lord 
(Born to uphold creation in that honour 
First nature styl'd it in) shrunk thee into 
The bound thou wast o'erflowing, at once subduing 
Thy force, and thy affection; soldieress, 
Bid him that we, whom flaming war doth scorch. 
Under the shadow of his sword may cool us! 
Require him he advance it o'er our heads; 
Speak 't in a woman's key, like such a woman 
As any of us three; weep ere you fail; 
Lend us a knee; 

But touch the ground for us no longer time 
Than a dove's motion, when the head's pluck'd off! 

To this Hippolyta responds : — 

Poor lady say no more! 
I had as lief trace this good action with you 
As that whereto I'm going, and never yet 
Went I so willing way. My lord is taken 
Heart-deep with your distress; let him consider; 
I'll speak anon. 

The third Queen appeals to Hippolyta's sister, and so per- 
sistent and eloquent are the distressed suitors that all are 
deeply moved by them. Theseus, however, orders the pro- 
cession to move on: — 

I Queen. Oh, this celebration 

Will longer last, and be more costly, than 
Your suppliants' war! 

i86 



A STUDY OF OTHER "SHAKESPEARE" PLAYS 

The others, too, raise their voices in grief at the prospective 
delay, which moves Theseus to exclaim : — 

I will give you comfort 
To give your dead lords graves. 

He then orders to 

forth and levy 
Our worthiest instruments; whilst we despatch 
This grand act of our life, this daring deed 
Of fate in wedlock! 

Impatient of any delay the suitors turn away, the first 
Queen exclaiming: — 

Let us be widows to our woes! Delay 
Commends us to a famishing hope. 

To this Theseus replies : — 

Why, good ladies, 
This is a service, whereto I am going, 
Greater than any war; it more imports me 
Than all the actions that I have foregone 
Or futurely can cope. 
I Queen. The more proclaiming 

Our suit shall be neglected. 

This attitude so affects Hippolyta that she yields. 

Hip. Though much unlike 

You should be so transported, as much sorry 

I should be such a suitor; yet I think 

Did I not, by the abstaining of my joy, 

Which breeds a deeper longing, cure their surfeit. 

That craves a present medicine, I should pluck 

All ladies' scandal on me; therefore, sir. 

As I shall here make trial of my prayers, 

Either presuming them to have some force, 

Or sentencing for aye their vigour dumb, 

Prorogue this business we are going about, and hang 

Your shield afore your heart, about that neck 

Which is my fee, and which I freely lend 

To do these poor queens service! 

Emilia also appeals to Theseus who yields to the wishes of 
his bride and sister: — 

187 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

The. Pray stand up! 

I am entreating of myself to do 
That which you kneel to have me. Perithous, 
Lead on the bride! Get you and pray the gods 
For success and return; omit not anything 
In the pretended celebration. 

Theseus, taking leave of his bride and sister, orders the 

procession to move on without him, and that the ceremonies 

shall be observed as though he were present. As he turns away 

he utters these noble words to his followers : — 

As we are men 
Thus should we do; being sensually subdued, 
We lose our humane title. Good cheer, ladies! 

In the next scene Palamon and Arcite, the noble kinsmen, 
are introduced to us : — 

Arcite is gently visag'd: yet his eye 

Is like an engine bent, or a sharp weapon 

In a soft sheath; mercy, and manly courage, 

Are bedfellows in his visage. Palamon 

Has a most menacing aspect; his brow 

Is grav'd, and seems to bury what it frowns on; 

Yet sometimes 't is not so, but alters to 

The quality of his thoughts; long time his eye 

Will dwell upon his object; melancholy 

Becomes him nobly; so does Arcite's mirth; 

But Palamon's sadness is a kind of mirth, 

So mingled, as if mirth did make him sad, 

And sadness, merry; those darker humours that 

Stick misbecomingly on others, on him 

Live in fair dwelling. 

Though they regard Creon, their uncle, as "A most un- 
bounded tyrant," when they are informed that war is declared 
against him by Theseus, they decide "That to be neutral to 
him were dishonor," and so they join him in the battle which 
is to decide his fate. In this battle Theseus is victor, and is 
met by the three queens. 

J Queen. All the good that may 

Be wish'd upon thy head, I cry "amen" to ' t! 
Thes. Th' impartial gods, who from the mounted heav'ns 

i88 



A STUDY OF OTHER "SHAKESPEARE" PLAYS 

View us their mortal herd, behold who err, 
And in their time chastise. Go, and find out 
The bones of your dead lords, and honour them 
With treble ceremony! 

The Queens having departed to find the bodies of their 
husbands, Theseus, seeing the bodies of Palamon and Arcite, 
inquires of a herald who they are : — 

Herald. Men of great quality, as may be judg'd 

By their appointment; some of Thebes have told us 
They are sisters' children, nephews to the king. 
Thes. By th' helm of Mars, I saw them in the war. 
Like to a pair of lions, smear'd with prey. 
Make lanes in troops aghast: I fix'd my note 
Constantly on them; for they were a mark 
Worth a god's view! What prisoner was't that told me 
When I inquir'd their names .'' 

Herald. With leave, they're call'd 
Arcite and Palamon. 
Thes. Then like men use 'em! 

The very lees of such, millions of rates 
Exceed the wine of others; all our surgeons 
Convent in their behoof; our richest balms, 
Rather than niggard, waste! their lives concern us 
Much more than Thebes is worth. 

While Theseus is sweating on the battlefield, Hippolyta and 
Emilia reminiscently discourse of the love between Theseus 
and his friend, Perithous, which Emilia illustrates by mention 
of her love for her playfellow, Flavina, declaring 

That the true love, 'tween maid and maid may be 
More than in sex dividual. 

In Act II we have the kinsmen in prison. Their nobility is 
shown in these words : — 

Yet, cousin, 
Even from the bottom of these miseries, 
From all that fortune can inflict upon us, 
I see two comforts rising, two mere blessings, 
If the gods please to hold here, — a brave patience 
And the enjoying of our griefs together. 
Whilst Palamon is with me, let me perish 
If I think this our prison! 

189 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

From a window they see Emilia enter the adjacent garden 
with her servant. 

Emi. This garden has a world of pleasure in 't. What flower is 

this ? 
Serv. 'T is call'd Narcissus, madam. 
Emi. That was a fair boy certain, but a fool 

To love himself: were there not maids enough? 
Jrc. Pray, forward. 
Pal. Yes. 

Ejni. Or were they all hard-hearted.'' 

Serv. They could not be to one so fair. 

Emi. Thou wouldst not.^* 

Serv. I think I should not, madam. 
Emi. That's a good wench! 

But take heed to your kindness though! 
Serv. Why, madam. f* 

Emi. Men are mad things. 
Arc. Will you go forward, cousin.'' 

Emi. Canst not thou work such flowers in silk, wench .f* 
Serv. Yes. 

Emi. I'll have a gown full of them; and of these; 
This is a pretty colour; will't not do 
Rarely upon a skirt, wench.? 

The kinsmen, infatuated with love of Emilia, become jeal- 
ous of each other, and, while disputing, the jailer appears and 
summons Arcite to proceed with him to Theseus. Later he 
returns without Arcite, and Palamon asks in surprise: — 

Pal. Where's Arcite? 

Gaoler. Banished. Prince Perithous 

Obtain'd his liberty; but never more. 
Upon his oath and life, must he set foot 
Upon this kingdom. 

The jailer informs Palamon that he is to be conveyed to a 

dungeon, and despite pleading and resistance forces him 

away. As he leaves the window from which he has beheld 

Emilia, he exclaims : — 

Pal. Farewell, kind window! 

May rude wind never hurt thee! Oh, my lady, 
If ever thou hast felt what sorrow was. 
Dream how I suffer! Come, now bury me. 

190 



A STUDY OF OTHER "SHAKESPEARE" PLAYS 

Arcite, before being banished, is permitted to take part in 
the athletic games in honor of Emiha's birthday, and win- 
ning, is brought wearing the garland of victory before Theseus. 

Thes. You have done worthily; I have not seen 
Since Hercules, a man of tougher sinews: 
Whate'er you are, you run the best and wrestle, 
That these times can allow. 
Arc. I am proud to please you. 
Thes. What country bred you? 

Thes. This; but far off, prince. 

Thes. Are you a gentleman.'' 
Arc. My father said so; 

And to those gentle uses gave me life. 
Thes. Are you his heir? 
Arc. His youngest, sir, 

Thes. Your father 

Sure is a happy sire then. What prove you? 
Arc. A little of all noble qualities: 

I could have kept a hawk, and well have halloa'd 
To a deep cry of dogs; I dare not praise 
My feat in horsemanship, yet they that knew me 
Would say it was my best piece; last, and greatest, 
I would be thought a soldier. 
Thes. You are perfect. 

Per. Upon my soul, a proper man! 
Emi. He is so. 

Per. How do you like him, lady? 
Hip. I admire him: 

I have not seen so young a man so noble 
(If he say true) of his sort. 
Emi. I believe, 

His mother was a wondrous handsome woman! 
His face, methinks, goes that way. 
Hip. But his body, 

And fiery mind, illustrate a brave father. 
Per. Mark how his virtue, like a hidden sun, 
Breaks through his baser garments. 

Received into favor by Theseus, Emilia giving him the 

choice of her horses for the continuance of the fete, Theseus 

pleasantly remarks : — 

Sister, beshrew my heart, you have a servant, 
That, if I were a woman, would be master; 
But you are wise. 

191 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

In Act III, while the merrymaking is proceeding in " Diana's 
Wood," Arcite, as his charger enters a thicket, encounters 
Palamon in shackles, having escaped from prison. 

Pal. Traitor kinsman! 

Thou shouldst perceive my passion, if these signs 
Of prisonment were off me, and this hand 
But owner of a sword. By all oaths in one, 
I, and the justice of my love, would make thee 
A confess'd traitor! Oh, thou most perfidious 
That ever gently look'd! the void'st of honour 
That e'er bore gentle token! falsest cousin 
That ever blood made kin! call'st thou her thine? 

Arcite in vain endeavors to appease him, and urges him to 
remain in hiding till he returns. Palamon consents, and when 
night falls Arcite brings him food, wine, and files to remove 
his fetters. Palamon, mad with jealousy, persists in insulting 
him, and Arcite finally promises to return and meet him in 
combat. 

In Act III, Scene vi, Palamon enters "from the Bush," 
then Arcite "with armours and swords ": — 

Arc. Good morrow, noble kinsman! 

Pal. I have put you 

To too much pains, sir. 
Arc. That too much, fair cousin. 

Is but a debt to honour, and my duty. 
Pal. Would you were so in all, sir! I could wish you 

As kind a kinsman, as you force me find 

A beneficial foe, that my embraces 

Might thank you, not my blows. 
Arc. I shall think either, 

Well done, a noble recompense. 

Palamon asks Arcite where he got so fine a suit of armor 
for him, and Arcite replies that he had to steal it from the 
duke. They buckle each other's armor. 

Pal. Thank you, Arcite! 

How do I look.'' am I fall'n much away? 
Arc. Faith, very little; Love has us'd you kindly. 
Pal. I'll warrant thee I'll strike home. 

192 



A STUDY OF OTHER "SHAKESPEARE" PLAYS 

Arc. Do, and spare not! 

I'll give you cause, sweet cousin. 
Pal. Now to you, sir! 

Methinks this armour 's very like that, Arcite, 

Thou wor'st that day the three kings fell, but lighter. 
Arc. That was a very good one; and that day 

I well remember, you outdid me, cousin; 

I never saw such valour; when you charg'd 

Upon the left wing of the enemy, 

I spurr'd hard to come up, and under me 

I had a right good horse. 
Pal. You had indeed; 

A bright-bay, I remember. 

While fighting they are surprised by Theseus, Hippolyta, 
and Emiha, with train. Theseus, furious at this infraction of 
his laws, condemns both to death, but yields to the pleading of 
Hippolyta and Emilia to spare them, and offers Emilia her 
choice of them. 

Thes. Say, Emilia 

If one of them were dead, as one must be, are you 

Content to take the other to your husband.'' 

They cannot both enjoy you; they are princes 

As goodly as your own eyes, and as noble 

As ever Fame yet spoke of; look upon them. 

And if you can love, end this difference! 

I give consent! are you content, too, princes? 

Emilia refuses to make choice which will condemn one to 
death, and Theseus orders them to go to their own country, 
and return within a month, during which time he will plant a 
pyramid, and if either 

Can force his cousin 

By fair and knightly strength to touch the pillar, 

he shall wed Emilia, and the other shall be slain. 

In Act IV, Scene ii, Emilia appears with the pictures of the 
two kinsmen : — 

Emi. Yet I may bind those wounds up, that must open 
And bleed to death for my sake else; I '11 choose, 
And end their strife; two such young handsome men 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Shall never fall for me: their weeping mothers, 

Following the dead-cold ashes of their sons, 

Shall never curse my cruelty. Good Heav'n, 

What a sweet face has Arcite! If wise Nature, 

With all her best endowments, all those beauties 

She sows into the births of noble bodies. 

Were here a mortal woman, and had in her 

The coy denials of young maids, yet doubtless 

She would run mad for this man: what an eye! 

Of what a fiery sparkle, and quick sweetness, 

Has this young prince! here Love himself sits smiling; 

Just such another wanton Ganymede 

Set Jove afire, and enforc'd the god 

Snatch up the goodly boy, and set him by him 

A shining constellation! what a brow, 

Of what a spacious majesty, he carries, 

Arch'd like the great-ey'd Juno's, but far sweeter. 

Smoother than Pelops' shoulder! Fame and Honour, 

Methinks, from hence, as from a promontory 

Pointed in heav'n, should clap their wings, and sing 

To all the under-world, the loves and fights 

Of gods and such men near 'em. Palamon 

Is but his foil; to him, a mere dull shadow; 

He 's swarth and meagre, of an eye as heavy 

As if he 'd lost his mother; a still temper. 

No stirring in him, no alacrity; 

Of all this sprightly sharpness, not a smile. 

Yet these that we count errors, may become him; 

Narcissus was a sad boy, but a heavenly. 

Oh, who can find the bent of woman's fancy.'' 

I am a fool, my reason is lost to me! 

I have no choice, and I have lied so lewdly. 

That women ought to beat me. On my knees 

I ask thy pardon, Palamon! Thou art alone. 

And only beautiful; and these thy eyes. 

These the bright lamps of beauty, that command 

And threaten love, and what young maid dare cross 'em? 

What a bold gravity, and yet inviting. 

Has this brown manly face! Oh, Love, this only 

From this hour is complexion; lie there, Arcite! 

A messenger announces the return of Palamon and Arcite. 
In the battle that ensues Arcite wins. In Scene vi, the execu- 
tion of Palamon is about to take place when Perithous arrests 
it with the tidings that Arcite has been thrown from the 

194 



A STUDY OF OTHER "SHAKESPEARE" PLAYS 

black horse formerly given him by Emilia, and desires to see 
Palamon. Arcite is brought in : — 

Pal. Oh, miserable end of our alliance! 

The gods are mighty! Arcite, if thy heart, 

Thy worthy manly heart, be yet unbroken, 

Give me thy last words! I am Palamon, 

One that yet loves thee dying. 
Arc. Take Emilia, 

And with her all the world's joy. Reach thy hand; 

Farewell! I've told my last hour. I was false. 

Yet never treacherous: forgive me, cousin! 

One kiss from fair Emilia; 'T is done: 

Take her, I die. {Dies.) 

Pal. Thy brave soul seek Elysium! 

Emi. I'll close thine eyes, prince; blessed souls be with thee! 

Thou art a right good man; and while I live 

This day I give to tears. 
Pal. And I to honour. 

Phillipps speaks of "Edward H,'^ "Edward HI," and 
"Edward IV," as having been called "Shakespeare" plays. 
He might have added "Edward I." With two exceptions we 
then have a complete series of dramatic histories, "Henry I," 
1100-35, to "Henry VHI," 1509-47. Does this indicate a 
design to produce a dramatic history of this period .? One of 
the exceptions named is the omission of the successor of King 
John, namely, Henry HI. If any play of this reign was writ- 
ten it has disappeared. In Fleay's transcript of the Stationers' 
Registers we find an entry, under date of 1653,^ which would 
indicate that "Henry II" was thought to be a work of collab- 
oration and "Henry I" of Shakespeare, but this cannot be 
considered valid evidence. The manuscripts of "Henry I" 
and "Henry II" were in a large collection of manuscript plays 
owned by John Warburton, Somerset herald of arms, most of 
which were unfortunately destroyed by his cook in 1730. The 
other exception is "Henry VII," which was never dramatized. 
We have in its place, not a dramatic but a prose history of 
this reign, written by Francis Bacon. Concerning "Henry 

" " ^' Fleay, A Chronicle History, etc., p. 359. 

^95 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

VIII," the last of the series, is this singular fact, that Bacon 
was supposed to be writing a history of this reign, which 
would have completed the series, yet but a fragment of this 
history ever came to light. ^ A dramatic version, however, of 
"Henry VIII" appeared, and was printed in the "Shake- 
speare" Folio. All the dramatic histories in this long series of 
kings, covering nearly four hundred and fifty years, were once 
thought to be the work of the author of the Folio plays. It is 
a notable fact that Bacon begins his history of Henry VII at 
the close of the battle of Bosworth Field, taking it up at the 
point where the drama of " Richard III " leaves it. Henry was 
then twenty-eight years old, and had completed more than 
half his life. One would suppose that Bacon would begin his 
history with an account of his birth and continue to the great 
battle which gave him the throne, and we may well ask, why 
did he make his history a continuation, as it were, of "Rich- 
ard III"? Is there not here a clear evidence of design? At 
the present time we find the four "Edwards" arbitrarily 
assigned to others : the first to Peele, the second and third to 
Marlowe, and the fourth to Heywood. As the second and 
third have been so far accepted as to be now found among 
"Shakespeare" plays as "doubtful," which means that ortho- 
dox critics differ respecting them, as they still do respecting 
several in the Canon, we will briefly consider them. 

Edward II begins with the entrance upon the scene of 
Gaveston, the favorite of the King, who has been exiled to 
France by the King*s father. He is reading a letter from the 
King recalling him to England, beginning: — 

My father is deceased ! Come, Gaveston, 

And share the kingdom with thy dearest friend. 

The character of Gaveston for whom the Prince, now 
Edward II, had conceived one of those strange passions of 

^ This is in additional MSS. 5503 f, 12b b, Brit. Mus. 
196 



A STUDY OF OTHER "SHAKESPEARE" PLAYS 

which there are several historic examples, is shown by his ex- 
pressions upon reading the letter. The infatuation of the 
King for Gaveston proves his ruin. 

Gav. Ah! words that make me surfeit with delight! 
What greater bliss can hap to Gaveston, 
Than live and be the favorite of a king! 

Farewell base stooping to the lordly peers! 
My knee shall bow to none but to the king, 
As for the multitude, they are but sparks, 
Raked up in embers of their poverty: — 
Tanti; I'll fawn first on the wind 
That glanceth at my lips, and flieth away. 

Gaveston arrives in England and hears, without being 
observed, an altercation of the nobles, comprising the two 
Mortimers, Lancaster, Kent and Warwick, with the King on 
account of his recall. 

Edw. Will you not grant me this? In spite of them 
I'll have my will; and these two Mortimers, 
That cross me thus, shall know I am displeased. 

Y. Mor. If you love us, my lord, hate Gaveston. 

Gav. That villain Mortimer, I'll be his death! {Aside. 

Y. Mor. Mine uncle here, this earl, and I myself, 

Were sworn unto your father at his death, 
That he should ne'er return into the realm: 
And know, my lord, ere I will break my oath, 
This sword of mine, that should offend your foes, 
Shall sleep within the scabbard at thy need, 
And underneath thy banners march who will. 
For Mortimer will hang his armour up. 
Gav. Mort dieu! {Aside. 

Edw. Well, Mortimer, I '11 make thee rue these words. 
Beseems it thee to contradict thy king? 
Frown'st thou thereat, aspiring Lancaster? 
Thy sword shall plane the furrows of thy brows, 
And hew these knees that now are grown so stiff. 
I will have Gaveston; and you shall know 
What danger 't is to stand against your king. 

The King's unnatural love for Gaveston causes him to 
throw his Bishop into the Tower and bestow his wealth upon 
his favorite. He even neglects his Queen. 

197 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Enter Queen Isabella. 
Y. Mor. Madam, whither walks your majesty so fast? 
Queen. Unto the forest, gentle Mortimer, 

To live in grief and baleful discontent; 
For now, my lord, the king regards me not. 
But doats upon the love of Gaveston. 
He claps his cheek, and hangs about his neck, 
Smiles in his face, and whispers in his ears; 
And when I come he frowns, as who should say, 
"Go whither thou wilt, seeing I have Gaveston." 

The nobles force the King to banish his favorite. 

Edzv. {mourning) . He's gone, and for his absence thus I mourn. 
Did never sorrow go so near my heart. 
As doth the want of my sweet Gaveston! 
And could my crown's revenue bring him back, 
I would freely give it to his enemies, 
And think I gained, having bought so dear a friend. 

Young Mortimer, influenced by the Queen who desires to 
regain the King's love, persuades his fellow nobles to consent 
to have Gaveston recalled, intending finally to work his ruin. 

Ediv. My heart is as an anvil unto sorrow. 

Which beats upon it like the Cyclops' hammers. 
And with the noise turns up my giddy brain. 
And makes me frantic for my Gaveston. 
Ah! had some bloodless fury rose from hell. 
And with my kingly sceptre struck me dead, 
When I was forced to leave my Gaveston! 
Lan. Diablo! what passions call you these.'' 
Queen. My gracious lord, I come to bring you news, 
Edw. That you have parled with your Mortimer? 
Queen. That Gaveston, my lord, shall be repealed. 
Edw. Repealed! the news is too sweet to be true! 
Queen. But will you love me, if you find it so? 

Edw. If it be so, what will not Edward do? 
Queen. For Gaveston, but not for Isabel. 
Edw. For thee, fair queen, if thou lov'st Gaveston. 
I'll hang a golden tongue about thy neck. 
Seeing thou hast pleaded with so good success. 
Queen. No other jewels hang about my neck 

Than these, my lord; nor let me have more wealth 
Than I may fetch from this rich treasury — 
how a kiss revives poor Isabel! 

198 



A STUDY OF OTHER "SHAKESPEARE" PLAYS 

Edw. Once more receive my hand; and let this be 
A second marriage 'twixt thyself and me. 
Queen. And may it prove more happy than the first! 
My gentle lord, bespeak these nobles fair, 
That wait attendance for a gracious look, 
And on their knees salute your majesty. 

In his joy the weak King heaps favors upon his nobles, and 
the skies are again blue. The senior Mortimer pleads with 
Young Mortimer to keep peace with Edward. 

Y. Mor. Nephew, I must to Scotland; thou stayest here. 
Leave now t' oppose thyself against the king. 
Thou seest by nature he is mild and calm, 
And, seeing his mind so doats on Gaveston, 
Let him without controlment have his will. 
The mightiest kings have had their minions: 
Great Alexander loved Hephestion; 
The conquering Hercules for his Hylas wept; 
And for Patroclus stern Achilles drooped. 
And not kings only, but the wisest men; 
The Roman Tully loved Octavius; 
Grave Socrates wild Alcibiades. 
Then let his grace, whose youth is flexible, 
And promiseth as much as we can wish. 
Freely enjoy that vain, light-headed earl; 
For riper years will wean him from such toys. 

Y. Mor. Uncle, his wanton humour grieves not me; 
But this I scorn, that one so basely born 
Should by his sovereign's favour grow so pert, 
And riot it with the treasure of the realm. 
While soldiers mutiny for want of pay, 
He wears a lord's revenue on his back. 
And Midas-like, he jets it in the court. 
With base outlandish cullions at his heels. 
Whose proud fantastic liveries make such show, 
As if that Proteus, god of shapes, appeared. 
I have not seen a dapper Jack so brisk; 
He wears a short Italian hooded cloak. 
Larded with pearl, and, in his Tuscan cap, 
A jewel of more value than the crown. 
While others walk below, the king and he 
From out a window laugh at such as we. 
And flout our train, and jest at our attire. 
Uncle, 't is this makes me impatient. 

199 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Scene ii in Act ii opens with the King impatient for the 
return of Gaveston : — 

Edw. How now! what news? is Gaveston arrived? 
Y. Mor. Nothing but Gaveston! what means your grace? 
You have matters of more weight to think upon; 
The King of France sets foot in Normandy. 
Ediu. A trifle! we'll expell him when we please 
But tell me, Mortimer, what 's thy device 
Against the stately triumph we decreed? 
Y. Mor. A homely one, my lord, not worth the telling. 

Edw. Pray thee let me know it. 
Y. Mor. But, seeing you are so desirous, thus it is; 
A lofty cedar-tree, fair flourishing, 
On whose top-branches kingly eagles perch, 
And by the bark a canker creeps me up. 
And gets into the highest bough of all; 
The motto, jEque tandem. 
Edw. And what is yours, my lord of Lancaster? 
Lan. My lord, mine's more obscure than Mortimer's. 
Pliny reports there is a flying fish 
Which all the other fishes deadly hate. 
And therefore, being pursued, it takes the air; 
No sooner is it up, but there's a fowl 
That seizeth it: this fish, my lord, I bear, 
The motto this; Undique mors est. 
Kent. Proud Mortimer! ungentle Lancaster! 

Is this the love you bear your sovereign? 
Is this the fruit your reconcilement bears? 
Can you in words make show of amity, 
And in your shields display your rancorous minds! 
What call you this but private libelling 
Against the Earl of Cornwall and my brother? 
Queen. Sweet husband, be content, they all love you. 
Edw. They love me not that hate my Gaveston. 
I am that cedar, shake me not too much; 
And you the eagles; soar ye ne'er so high, 
I have the jesses that will pull you down; 
And Mque tandem shall that canker cry 
Unto the proudest peer of Britainy. 
Though thou compar'st him to a flying fish. 
And threatenest death whether he rise or fall, 
'T is not the hugest monster of the sea, 
\ Nor foulest harpy that shall swallow him. 



200 



A STUDY OF OTHER "SHAKESPEARE" PLAYS 

Gaveston appears : — 

Edzu. My Gaveston! welcome to Tynemouth! welcome to thy 
friend ! 

Gav. Sweet lord and king, your speech preventeth mine, 
Yet have I words left to express my joy: 
The shepherd nipt with biting winter's rage 
Frolics not more to see the painted spring, 
Than I do to behold your majesty. 

The King orders his nobles to welcome his favorite who 
resents their somewhat exaggerated salutes. 

Gav. My lord, I cannot brook these injuries. 
Queen. Ah me! poor soul, when these begin to jar. {Aside. 

Ediv. Return it to their throats, I'll be thy warrant. 
Gav. Base, leaden earls, that glory in your birth, 
Go sit at home and eat your tenants' beef; 
And come not here to scoff at Gaveston, 
Whose mounting thoughts did never creep so low 
As to bestow a look on such as you. 

A quarrel follows; bad news arrives from Scotland and 
France. Incensed at the King's neglect of the realm and his 
infatuation for Gaveston the nobles revolt. 

Y. Mor. Nay, now you 're here alone, I'll speak my mind, 

Lan. And so will I, and then, my lord, farewell. 
Y. Mor. The idle triumphs, masks, lascivious shows. 

And prodigal gifts bestowed on Gaveston, 

Have drawn thy treasury dry, and made thee weak; 

The murmuring commons, overstretched, break. 
Lan. Look for rebellion, look to be deposed; 

Thy garrisons are beaten out of France, 

And, lame and poor, lie groaning at the gates. 

The wild Oneyl, with swarms of Irish kerns, 

Lives uncontrolled within the English pale. 

Unto the walls of York the Scots make road. 

And unresisted drive away rich spoils, 
Y. Mor. The haughty Dane commands the narrow seas. 

While in the harbour ride thy ships unrigged. 
Lan. What foreign prince sends thee ambassadors.'' 
Y. Mor. Who loves thee, but a sort of flatterers? 
Lan. Thy gentle queen, sole sister to Valois, 

Complains that thou hast left her all forlorn. 
Y. Mor. Thy court is naked, being bereft of those 

That make a king seem glorious to the world; 

20I 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

I mean the peers, whom thou should'st dearly love: 
Libels are cast against thee in the street: 
Ballads and rhymes made of thy overthrow. 
Lan. The Northern borderers seeing their houses burnt, 
Their wives and children slain, run up and down. 
Cursing the name of thee and Gaveston. 
Y. Mor. When wert thou in the field with banners spread? 

But once; and then thy soldiers marched like players, 
With garish robes, not armour; and thyself, 
Bedaubed with gold, rode laughing at the rest, 
Nodding and shaking of thy spangled crest. 
Where women's favours hung like labels down. 

The King drives his nobles and even his brother Kent, who 
has hitherto stood by him, from his presence, and they revolt 
and storm the castle. 

Enter the Barons. Alarums. 

Lan. I wonder how he scaped! 
Y. Mor. Who's this, the queen? 
Queen. Aye, Mortimer, the miserable queen 

Whose pining heart her inward sighs have blasted, 
And body with continual mourning wasted; 
These hands are tired with haling of my lord 
From Gaveston, from wicked Gaveston, 
And all in vain; for, when I speak him fair. 
He turns away, and smiles upon his minion. 
Y. Mor. Cease to lament, and tell us where 's the king? 
Queen. What would you with the king? is 't him you seek? 
Lan. No, madam, but that cursed Gaveston. 
Far be it from the thought of Lancaster, 
To offer violence to his sovereign. 
We would but rid the realm of Gaveston; 
Tell us where he remains, and he shall die. 

Gaveston is finally captured and executed. Edward, en- 
raged against his barons, is encouraged by young Spencer, one 
of his adherents, to revenge himself upon them. While he is 
discoursing with him his father arrives upon the scene. 

0. Spen. Long live my sovereign, the noble Edward — 
In peace triumphant, fortunate in wars! 
Edw. Welcome, old man, com'st thou in Edward's aid? 
Then tell thy prince of whence, and what thou art. 

202 



A STUDY OF OTHER "SHAKESPEARE" PLAYS 

0. Spen. Lo, with a band of bowmen and of pikes, 

Brown bills and targeteers, four hundred strong, 
Sworn to defend King Edward's royal right, 
I come in person to your majesty. 
Spencer, the father of Hugh Spencer there, 
Bound to your highness everlastingly, 
For favour done, in him, unto us all. 
Edw. Thy father, Spencer? 

Y. Spen. True, an it like your grace, 

That pours, in lieu of all your goodness shown, 
His life, my lord, before your princely feet. 
Edzv. Welcome ten thousand times, old man, again. 
Spencer, this love, this kindness to thy king, 
Argues thy noble mind and disposition. 
Spencer, I here create thee Earl of Wiltshire, 
And daily will enrich thee with our favour, 
That, as the sunshine, shall reflect o'er thee. 
Besides, the more to manifest our love 
Because we hear Lord Bruce doth sell his land, 
And that the Mortimers are in hand withal. 
Thou shalt have crowns of us t' outbid the barons: 
And, Spencer, spare them not, (but) lay it on. 
Soldiers, a largess, and thrice welcome all! 

The barons, having rid themselves of the pernicious Gaves- 
ton who has pandered to the King's folly to the great injury of 
the realm, now come with their herald to offer the King their 
allegiance and support. 

Her. Long live King Edward, England's lawful lord! 

Edzv. So wish not they I wis that sent thee hither. 

Thou com'st from Mortimer and his complices, 
A ranker rout of rebels never was. 
Well, say thy message. 

Her. The barons up in arms, by me salute 

Your highness with long life and happiness; 

And bid me say, as plainer to your grace. 

That if without effusion of blood. 

You will this grief have ease and remedy, 

That from your princely person you remove 

This Spencer, as a putrefying branch. 

That deads the royal vine, whose golden leaves 

Empale your princely head, your diadem. 

Whose brightness such pernicious upstarts dim, 

Say they; and lovingly advise your grace, 

203 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

To cherish virtue and nobility, 
And have old servitors in high esteem, 
And shake off smooth dissembling flatterers: 
This granted, they, their honours, and their lives. 
Are to your highness vowed and consecrate. 
Y. Spen. Ah, traitors! will they still display their pride? 
Edzv. Away, tarry no answer, but be gone! 

Rebels, will they appoint their sovereign 
His sports, his pleasures, and his company? 
Yet, ere thou go, see how I do divorce 

(Embraces Spencer. 
Spencer from me. — Now get thee to thy lords, , 
And tell them I will come to chastise them 
For murthering Gaveston; hie thee, get thee gone! 
Edward with fire and sword follows at thy heels. 

Edward captures the barons, Lancaster, young Mortimer, 
and Warwick, and sends them to execution. Mortimer escapes 
to Flanders, and raising a force returns to England to drive 
out Edward's new favorites, the Spencers. They are welcomed 
by the Queen : — 

Queen. Now, lords, our loving friends and countrymen, 
Welcome to England all, with prosperous winds; 
Our kindest friends in Belgia have we left. 
To cope with friends at home; a heavy case 
When force to force is knit, and sword and glaive 
In civil broils make kin and countrymen 
Slaughter themselves in others, and their sides 
With their own weapons gore! But what's the help? 
Misgoverned kings are cause of all this wreck; 
And, Edward, thou art one among them all. 
Whose looseness hath betrayed thy land to spoil, 
Who made the channel overflow with blood 
Of thine own people; patron shouldst thou be. 
But thou — 
Y. Mor. Nay, madam, if you be a warrior, 

Ye must not grow so passionate in speeches. 
Lords, sith we are by sufferance of heaven. 
Arrived, and armed in this prince's right. 
Here for our country's cause swear we to him 
All homage, fealty, and forwardness; 
And for the open wrongs and injuries 
Edward hath done to us, his queen and land. 
We come in arms to wreak it with the sword; 

204 



A STUDY OF OTHER "SHAKESPEARE" PLAYS 

That England's queen in peace may repossess 

Her dignities and honours; and withal 

We may remove those flatterers from the king. 

In the battle that ensues the Queen's friends are victorious. 
Mortimer, aspiring to be Lord Protector, plots the death of 
Edward. 

Y. Mor. The king must die, or Mortimer goes down. 
The commons now begin to pity him. 
Yet he that is the cause of Edward's death, 
Is sure to pay for it when his son's of age; 
And therefore will I do it cunningly. 
This letter, written by a friend of ours, 
Contains his death, yet bids them save his life. 



The prince I rule, the queen do I command, 

And with a lowly conge to the ground, 

The proudest lords salute me as I pass: 

I seal, I cancel, I do what I will; 

Feared am I more than loved — let me be feared; 

And when I frown, make all the court look pale. 

I view the prince with Aristarchus' eyes. 

Whose looks were as a breeching to a boy. 

They thrust upon me the protectorship, 

And sue to me for that that I desire. 

While at the council-table, grave enough, 

And not unlike a bashful puritan, 

First I complain of imbecility. 

Saying it is onus quam gravissimum; 

Till being interrupted by my friends, 

Suscepi that provinciam as they term it; 

And to conclude, I am Protector now. 

Now is all sure, the queen and Mortimer 

Shall rule the realm, the king; and none rule us. 

Mine enemies will I plague, my friends advance; 

And what I list command, who dare control.^ 

Major sum qudm cut possit fortuna nocere. 

And that this be the coronation-day, 

It pleaseth me, and Isabel the queen. {Trumpets within. 

The trumpets sound, I must go take my place. 

The Prince is proclaimed King, while his father is in the 
Tower djnng of poison. 

205 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Enter the Young King, Archbishop, Champion, Nobles, Queen. 

Archbishop. Long live King Edward, by the grace of God. 
King of England, and Lord of Ireland! 
Cham. If any Christian, Heathen, Turk or Jew, 

Dare but affirm, that Edward 's not true king. 
And will avouch his saying with the sword, 
I am the champion that will combat him. 
Y. Mor. None comes, sound trumpets. 

King. Champion, here 's to thee. {Gives a purse. 

Queen. Lord Mortimer, now take him to your charge. 

Mortimer infatuated with power orders Kent beheaded. 
The young king pleads in vain for the Hfe of his uncle. Hav- 
ing more spirit than his father he calls his lords together to 
punish Mortimer. The Queen in fear seeks Mortimer. 

Queen. Ah, Mortimer, the king, my son, hath news 

His father's dead, and we have murdered him. 
Y. Mor. What if he have? the king is yet a child. 

Queen. Aye, but he tears his hair, and wrings his hands, 
And vows to be revenged upon us both. 
Into the council-chamber he is gone. 
To crave the aid and succour of his peers. 
Ah me! see where he comes, and they with him; 
Now, Mortimer, begins our tragedy. 

Enter the King, with the Lords. 

First Lord. Fear not, my lord, know that you are king. 
King. Villain! 
Y. Mor. How now, my lord? 

King. Think not that I am frighted with thy words! 
My father's murdered through thy treachery; 
And thou shalt die, and on his mournful hearse 
Thy hateful and accursed head shall lie, 
To witness to the world, that by thy means 
His kingly body was too soon interred. 
Queen. Weep not, sweet son. 
King. Forbid not me to weep, he was my father; 
And, had you loved him half so well as I, 
You could not bear his death thus patiently. 
But you, I fear, conspired with Mortimer. 
Lords, Why speak you not unto my lord the king? 
Y. Mor. Because I think scorn to be accused. 

Who is the man dare say I murdered him? 

206 



A STUDY OF OTHER "SHAKESPEARE" PLAYS 

King. Traitor! in me my loving father speaks, 

And plainly saith, 't was thou that murder'dst him. 
Y. Mor. But hath your grace no other proof than this? 

King. Yes, if this be the hand of Mortimer. 
Y. Mor. False Gurney hath betrayed me and himself. {Aside. 

The young king convinced of the participation of his mother 
In his father's death sends her to the Tower. 

King. Away with her, her words enforce these tears. 
And I shall pity her if she speaks again. 

This closes the drama: — 

Reenter a Lord, with the Head of Mortimer. 

Lord. My lord, here is the head of Mortimer. 

King. Go fetch my father's hearse, where it shall lie; 
And bring my funeral robes. Accursed head. 
Could I have ruled thee then, as I do now. 
Thou had'st not hatched this monstrous treachery. 
Here comes the hearse; help me to mourn, my lords. 
Sweet father, here unto thy murdered ghost 
I offer up this wicked traitor's head; 
And let these tears, distilling from mine eyes, 
Be witness of my grief and innocency. {Exeunt. 

Mr. Robert M. Theobald has given us a most interesting 
study of "Edward H." He says: — 

The internal evidence which I have to produce consists of such 
identity of expression or idea as is distinctively demonstrative of 
Identical authorship, If It can be shovi^n to be so extended, so 
subtle, so spontaneous, as to exclude the alternative explanation 
of accidental coincidence, or conscious plagiarism, or appropria- 
tion.^ 

He gives us a hundred and thirteen parallels of thought and 
expression in "Edward H," the "Shakespeare" Works, and 
Bacon. Space permits a quotation of but two: — 

A lofty cedar-tree, fair flourishing 

On whose top branches kingly eagles perch. 

Ed. II, II, ii. 

* Robert M. Theobald, M.A., Shakespeare Studies in Baconian Light, p. 430. 
London, 1901. 

207 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Thus yields the Cedar to the axe's edge 
Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle. 

Henry VI, v, ii. 

The wild O'Neil with swarms of Irish kernes, 
Lives uncontroU'd within the English pale. 

Ed. II, II, ii. 
The wild O'Neil, my lords, is up in arms. 
With troops of Irish kernes, that uncontroU'd 
Doth plant themselves within the English pale. 

Contention, etc., in, i. 

later altered in "Henry VI" to 

The haughty Dane commands the narrow seas. 

Henry VI, u, ii. 

Mr. Theobald also calls attention to a large number of 
words, now quite common, to show the closeness of verbal 
expression between "Edward H" and the author of the 
"Shakespeare" Works. 

Edward HI was printed in quarto in 1596 anonymously, 
as the early "Shakespeare" quartos were, and was regarded 
as being the work of the same author by Collier. Capell in 1760 
republished it as "A Play thought to be writ by Shakespeare," 
and that when it appeared "there was no known writer equal 
to such a play."^ Ulrici accounts for its neglect, and its omis- 
sion from the Folio, by the fact that it contains reflections 
upon the Scots, which made it popular in Elizabeth's time but 
would have given offense to James, and therefore its paternity 
was not recognized by its author in his reign. He concludes 
that it is "a complete and beautiful composition, which is 
throughout worthy of the great poet," having already given 
his opinion "that the piece probably belongs to Shakespeare's 
earlier labours." Collier declares it to be undoubtedly Shake- 
speare's. ^ Says Phillipps: — 

Produced in or before 1 595 there are occasional passages which, 
by most judgments, will be accepted as having been written 

* Edward Capell, Prolusions or Select Pieces of Ancient Poetry. London, 1760. 
2 J. Payne Collier, History of English Dramatic Poetry, vol. iii, p. 311. 

208 



A STUDY OF OTHER "SHAKESPEARE" PLAYS 

either by Shakespeare, or by an exceedingly dexterous and suc- 
cessful imitator of one of his then favorite styles of composition. 
For who but one or the other could have endowed a kind and 
gentle lady with the ability of replying to the impertinent ad- 
dresses of a foolish sovereign in words such as these. 

And he quotes the remarkable passage which we shall later 
reproduce, beginning with the line, "As easy may my intel- 
lectual soul," etc. Referring to Capell's "Exact and Perfect 
Catalogue of all Playes that are Printed," he calls attention to 
the fact that "not only Edward the Third but also Edward 
the Second and Edward the Fourth, are ascribed to the great 
dramatist."^ Furnivall calls those who ascribe the play to the 
author of the Folio collection, "A few wild untrustworthy 
folk," abusing those who differ with him as usual. 

In the first scene of the drama we have the Count of Artois 
presenting to Edward his claim to the French crown. Follow- 
ing upon this the Duke of Lorraine comes upon the scene with 
the insulting summons that Edward shall render homage to 
the King of France for the dukedom of Guyenne. To this 
Edward responds: — 

Ediv. See, how occasion laughs me in the face! 
No sooner minded to prepare for France, 
But, straight, I am invited; nay, with threats, 
Upon a penalty, enjoin'd to come: 
'T were but a foolish part, to say him nay, — 
Lorrain, return this answer to thy lord: 
I mean to visit him, as he requests; 
But how? not servilely dispos'd to bend; 
But like a conqueror, to make him bow: 
His lame unpolish'd shifts are come to light; 
And truth hath pull'd the visard from his face; 
That set a gloss upon his arrogance. 
Dare he command a fealty in me? 
Tell him, the crown, that he usurps, is mine; 
And where he sets his foot, he ought to kneel; 
'T is not a petty dukedom that I claim. 
But all the whole dominions of the realm; 

^ Philllpps, Outlines, etc., vol. i, p. 125; vol. n, p. 345. 
209 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Which if with grudging he refuse to yield, 
I'll take away those borrow'd plumes of his, 
And send him naked to the wilderness. 

Lorraine departs after an angry encounter with Artois and 
Edward turns to his friends : — 

Edzv. Now, lords, our fleeting bark is under sail: 
Our gage is thrown; and war is soon begun, 
But not so quickly brought unto an end. — 

Troubles follow on the heels of one another, and, at this 
juncture, enter Sir William Mountague: — 

Edu>. But wherefore comes Sir William Mountague.^ 

How stands the league between the Scot and us? 
Moun. Crack'd and dissever'd, my renowned lord, 

The treacherous king no sooner was inform'd 
Of your withdrawing of our army back. 
But straight, forgetting of his former oath. 
He made invasion on the bordering towns. 

The next scene opens on the walls of Roxburgh Castle which 
has fallen into the hands of the Scots. 

The Countess of Salisbury appears looking for succor from 
the English king. 

Count. Alas, how much in vain my poor eyes gaze 
For succour that my sovereign should send! 

As David, the Scotch King, with his followers, enters, she 
withdraws with the words : — 

I must withdraw; the everlasting foe 
Comes to the wall: I'll closely step aside. 

While the Scottish King is on the walls, a messenger enters 
hastily with news of the coming of Edward : — 

Mess. My liege, as we were pricking on the hills, 
To fetch in booty, marching hitherward 
We might descry a mighty host of men: 
The sun, reflecting on the armour, show'd 
A field of plate, a wood of pikes advanc'd. 
Dav. Dislodge, dislodge, it is the King of England. 

2IO 



A STUDY OF OTHER "SHAKESPEARE" PLAYS 

Another messenger enters crying, "We are all surpris'd." 
The Scots fly, and Edward enters with his attendants, and is 
welcomed by the Countess : — 

Count. In duty lower than the ground I kneel, 

And for my dull knees bow my feeling heart, 
To witness my obedience to your highness: 
With many millions of a subject's thanks 
For this your royal presence, whose approach 
Hath driven war and danger from my gate. 

Edward is infatuated with the beauty of the Countess of 
Salisbury: — 

Edzv. She is grown more fairer far since I came hither: 

Her voice more silver every word than other. 

Her wit more fluent: what a strange discourse 

Unfolded she, of David, and his Scots .f" 
"Even thus," quoth she, — "he spake," — and then spoke 
broad. 

With epithets and accents of the Scots; 

But somewhat better than the Scot could speak: 
"And thus," quoth she, — and answer'd then herself; 

For who could speak like her? but she herself 

Breathes from the wall an angel's note from heaven 

Of sweet defiance to her barbarous foes. 

When she would talk of peace, methinks, her tongue 

Commanded war to prison; when of war 

It waken'd Caesar from his Roman grave. 

To hear war beautified by her discourse. 

Wisdom is foolishness, but in her tongue; 

Beauty a slander, but in her fair face; 

There is no summer, but in her cheerful looks; 

Nor frosty winter, but in her disdain. 

Hast thou pen, ink, and paper ready, Lodowick? 
Lod. Ready, my liege. 
Ediv. Then, in the summer arbour sit by me. 

Make it our council-house, or cabinet; 

Since green our thoughts, green be the conventicle. 

Where we will ease us by disburd'ning them 

Now, Lodowick, invocate some golden muse. 

To bring thee hither an enchanted pen. 

While Lodowick is writing for the King a love letter to the 
Countess, she enters : — 

211 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Count. Pardon my boldness, my thrice-gracious lord; 
Let my intrusion here be call'd my duty, 
That comes to see my sovereign how he fares. 

The King dismisses Lodowick, and declares to the Countess 
that since coming to the castle he has been wronged, and is 
unhappy. The gentle Countess promises to do all in her power 
to render his visit a happy one. Taking advantage of this he 
more plainly declares his passion : — 

Edzv. Thou hear'st me say, that I do dote on thee. 

Count. If on my beauty, take it if thou canst; 

Though little, I do prize it ten times less: 
If on my virtue, take it if thou canst: 
For virtue's store by giving doth augment; 
Be it on what it will, that I can give. 
And thou canst take away, inherit it. 
Edw. It is thy beauty that I would enjoy. 

Count. O, were it painted, I would wipe it off. 
And dispossess myself, to give it thee. 
But, sovereign, it is solder'd to my life; 
Take one, and both; for, like an humble shadow, 
It haunts the sunshine of my summer's life. 
Edw. But thou may'st lend it me, to sport withal. 

Count. As easy may my intellectual soul 

Be lent away, and yet my body live. 
As lend my body, palace to my soul. 
Away from her, and yet retain my soul, 
My body is her bower, her court, her abbey, 
And she an angel, pure, divine, unspotted: 
If I should lend her house, my lord, to thee, 
I kill my poor soul, and my poor soul me. 
Edw. Didst thou not swear, to give me what I would? 

Count. I did, my liege; so, what you would, I could. 
Edw. I wish no more of thee, than thou may'st give; 
Nor beg I do not, but I rather buy. 
That is, thy love; and, for that love of thine. 
In rich exchange, I tender to thee mine. 

Count. But that your lips were sacred, O my lord, 
You would profane the holy name of love: 
That love, you offer me, you cannot give; 
For Caesar owes that tribute to his queen: 
That love, you beg of me, I cannot give; 
For Sarah owes that duty to her lord. 
He, that doth clip, or counterfeit, your stamp, 

212 



A STUDY OF OTHER "SHAKESPEARE" PLAYS 

Shall die, my lord; and will your sacred self 

Commit high treason against the King of heaven, 

To stamp his image in forbidden metal, 

Forgetting your allegiance, and your oath? 

In violating marriage' sacred law, 

You break a greater honour than yourself: 

To be a King, is of a younger house, 

Than to be married; your progenitor, 

Sole-reigning Adam on the universe. 

By God was honour'd for a married man, 

But not by him anointed for a king. 

It is a penalty, to break your statutes, 

Though not enacted by your highness' hand: 

How much more, to infringe the holy act 

Made by the mouth of God, seal'd with his hand? 

I know, my sovereign — in my husband's love, 

Who now doth loyal service in his wars — 

Doth but to try the wife of Salisbury, 

Whether she will hear a wanton's tale, or no; 

Lest being therein guilty by my stay. 

From that, not from my liege, I turn away. 

The King, knowing the moral weakness of Warwick, her 
father, appeals to him to use his influence with his daughter, 
and he consents. The Countess, anxious to escape the atten- 
tion of her sovereign, and at the same time exercise her hos- 
pitality towards him, seeks her father, who is condemning 
himself for his weakness. 

War. O doting king! O detestable office! 

Well may I tempt myself to wrong myself. 
When he hath sworn me by the name of God 
To break a vow made by the name of God. 

Enter Countess. 

See, where she comes: was never father, had. 
Against his child, an embassage so bad. 
Count. My lord and father, I have sought for you; 
My mother and the peers importune you. 
To keep in presence of his majesty, 
And do your best to make his highness merry. 
War. How shall I enter on this graceless errand? 

I must not call her child: for where 's the father 
That will, in such a suit, seduce his child? 

213 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

He then proceeds to disclose to her the King's suit: — 

Count. Unnatural besiege! Woe me unhappy, 
To have escap'd the danger of my foes, 
And to be ten times worse inwir'd by friends! 
Hath he no means to stain my honest blood, 
But to corrupt the author of my blood, 
To be his scandalous and vile solicitor? 
War. Why, now thou speak'st as I would have thee speak; 
And mark how I unsay my words again. 

An evil deed, done by authority. 
Is sin and subornation; deck an ape 
In tissue, and the beauty of the robe 
Adds but the greater scorn unto the beast, 
A spacious field of reasons could I urge. 
Between his glory, daughter, and thy shame: 
That poison shows worst in a golden cup; 
Dark night seems darker by the lightning flash; 
Lilies, that fester, smell far worse than weeds; 
And every glory that inclines to sin, 
The same is treble by the opposite, 
So leave I, with my blessing in thy bosom; 
Which then convert to a most heavy curse, 
When thou convert'st from honour's golden name 
To the black faction of bed-blotting shame! 
Count. I'll follow thee; and, when my mind turns so, 
My body sink my soul in endless woe! 

It should be noted that the line uttered by Warwick, 
"Lilies, that fester, smell far worse than weeds," occurs in 
Sonnet xciv. 

In Scene ii the lovesick King is brooding over his passion 
when Lodowick enters and is anxiously asked by him : — 

Edw. What says the more than Cleopatra's match 

To Caesar now? 
Lod. That yet, my liege, ere night 

She will resolve your majesty. {Drums within. 

Lodowick who has retired to ascertain the cause, re- 
enters : — 

Lod. My liege, the drum, that struck the lusty march. 

Stands with Prince Edward, your thrice-valiant son. 

214 



A STUDY OF OTHER "SHAKESPEARE" PLAYS 

Now occurs a most remarkable scene. The King looking 
upon his son, who resembles his mother, as he enters, has a 
sudden pang of contrition, and thus muses inwardly: — 

Edw. I see the boy. O, how his mother's face, 

Moulded in his, corrects my stray'd desire, 

And rates my heart, and chides my thievish eye: 

Who being rich enough in seeing her. 

Yet seeks elsewhere: and basest theft is that. 

Which cannot cloke itself on poverty. — 

Now boy, what news .'' 
Prince. I have assembled, my dear lord and father, 

The choicest buds of all our English blood, 

For our affairs to France; and here we come, 

To take direction from your majesty. 
Edw. Still do I see in him delineate 

His mother's visage; those his eyes are hers, 

Who, looking wistly on me, make me blush; 

For faults against themselves give evidence: 

Lust is a fire; and men, like lanthorns, show 

Light lust within themselves, even through themselves. 

Away, loose silks of wavering vanity! 

Shall the large limit of fair Britany 

By me be overthrown? and shall I not 

Master this little mansion of myself? 

Give me an armour of eternal steel; 

I go to conquer kings; and shall I then 

Subdue myself, and be my enemy's friend? 

It must not be. — Come, boy, forward, advance! 

Let's with our colours beat the air of France. 
Lod. My liege, the countess, with a smiling cheer 

Desires access unto your majesty. 
Edw. Why, there it goes! that very smile of hers 

Hath ransom'd captive France; and set the king, 

The Dauphin, and the peers, at liberty, — 

Go, leave me, Ned, and revel with thy friends. {Exit prince. 

Thy mother is but black; and thou, like her, 

Dost put into my mind how foul she is, — 

Go, fetch the countess hither in thy hand, 

And let her chase away those winter clouds; 

For she gives beauty both to heaven and earth. 

{Exit Lodowick. 

The sin is more, to hack and hew poor men, 

Than to embrace, in an unlawful bed, 

The register of all varieties 

Since leathern Adam 'till this youngest hour. 

215 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Reenter Lodozvick with the Countess. 

Go, Lodowick, put thy hand into my purse, 

Play, spend, give, riot, waste; do what thou wilt. 

So thou wilt hence a while, and leave me here. 

{Exit Lodozvick. 

Now, my soul's playfellow! and art thou come, 

To speak the more than heavenly word, of yea, 

To my subjection in thy beauteous love? 
Count. My father on his blessing hath commanded — 

Edzv. That thou shalt yield to me. 
Count. Ay, dear my liege, your due. 
Edzv. And that, my dearest love, can be no less 

Than right for right, and tender love for love. 
Count. Than wrong for wrong, and endless hate for hate. — 

But, — sith I see your majesty so bent. 

That my unwillingness, my husband's love, 

Your high estate, nor no respect respected 

Can be my help, but that your mightiness 

Will overbear and awe these dear regards, — 

I bind my discontent to my content, 

And, what I would not, I'll compel I will; 

Provided, that yourself remove those lets, 

That stand between your highness' love and mine. 
Edzv. Name them, fair countess, and, by Heaven, I will. 
Count. It is their lives, that stand between our love, 

That I would have chok'd up, my sovereign. 
Edzif. Whose lives, my lady? 
Count. My thrice-loving liege, 

Your queen, and Salisbury my wedded husband: 

Who living have that title in our love. 

That we cannot bestow but by their death. 
Edzv. Thy opposition is beyond our law. 
Count. And so is your desire; if the law 

Can hinder you to execute the one. 

Let it forbid you to attempt the other; 

I cannot think you love me as you say. 

Unless you do make good what you have sworn. 
Edzv. No more; thy husband and the queen shall die. 

Fairer thou art by far than Hero was; 

Beardless Leander not so strong as I: 

He swum an easy current for his love; 

But I will through a helly spout of blood, 

To arrive at Sestos where my Hero lies. 
Count. Nay, you'll do more; you'll make the river too. 

With their heart-bloods that keep our love asunder, 

Of which, my husband, and your wife, are twain. 

2l6 



A STUDY OF OTHER "SHAKESPEARE" PLAYS 

Edw. Thy beauty makes them guilty of their death, 

And gives in evidence, that they shall die; 

Upon which verdict, I, their judge, condemn them. 
Count. O perjur'd beauty! more corrupted judge; 

When, to the great star-chamber o'er our heads. 

The universal sessions calls to count 

This packing evil, we both shall tremble for it. 
Edzv. What says my fair love? is she resolute? 
Count. Resolv'd to be dissolv'd; and, therefore, this, — 

Keep but thy word, great king, and I am thine, 

Stand where thou dost, I'll part a little from thee. 

And see how I will yield me to thy hands. 

{Turning suddenly upon him, and showing two daggers. 

Here by my side do hang my wedding knives; 

Take thou the one, and with it kill thy queen, 

And learn by me to find her where she lies; 

And with this other I'll dispatch my love, 

Which now lies fast asleep within my heart; 

When they are gone, then I'll consent to love. 

Stir not, lascivious king, to hinder me; 

My resolution is more nimbler far. 

Than thy prevention can be in my rescue, 

And, if thou stir, I strike; therefore stand still, 

And hear the choice that I will put thee to: 

Either swear to leave thy most unholy suit. 

And never henceforth to solicit me; 

Or else, by Heaven {kneeling) this sharp-pointed knife 

Shall stain thy earth with that which thou wouldst stain, 

My poor chaste blood. Swear, Edward, swear. 

Or I will strike, and die, before thee here. 

Utterly overcome by the impeccable virtue of the Countess, 
Edward's nobler nature reawakens, and he exclaims : — 

Edw. Even by that Power I swear, that gives me now 
The power to be ashamed of myself, 
I never mean to part my lips again 
In any word that tends to such a suit, 
Arise, true English lady: whom our isle 
May better boast of, than e'er Roman might 
Of her, whose ransack'd treasury hath task'd 
The vain endeavour of so many pens; 
Arise: and be my fault thy honour's fame, 
Which after-ages shall enrich thee with. 
I am awaked from this idle dream: — 
217 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Warwick, my son, Derby, Artois, and Audley, 
Brave warriors all, where are you all this while? 

Enter Prince and Lords. 
Warwick, I make thee warden of the north: — 
You, Prince of Wales, and Audley, straight to sea; 
Scour to Newhaven; some, there stay for me: — 
Myself, Artois, and Derby, will through Flanders, 
To greet our friends there, and to crave their aid: 
This night will scarce suffice me, to discover 
My folly's siege against a faithful lover; 
For, ere the sun shall gild the eastern sky, 
We'll wake him with our martial harmony. {Exeunt. 

The rest of the play is taken up with the campaign in France. 

Before the battle of Crecy the King arms his son : — 

And, Ned, because this battle is the first 
That ever yet thou fought'st in pitched field, 
As ancient custom is of martialists. 
To dub thee with the type of chivalry. 
In solemn manner we will give thee arms. 

We will quote, in closing, from the last act which ends with 

the battle of Poitiers : — 

Edw. Welcome, Lord Salisbury; what news from Bretagne? 
Sal. This, mighty king: the country we have won; 

And John de Montfort, regent of that place. 

Presents your highness with this coronet. 

Protesting true allegiance to your grace. 
Edzu. We thank thee for thy service, valiant earl; 

Challenge our favour, for we owe it thee. 
Sal. But now, my lord, as this is joyful news. 

So must my voice be tragical again. 

And I must sing of doleful accidents. 
Edw. What, have our men the overthrow at Poitiers 

Or is my son beset with too much odds.f* 
Sal. He was, my lord; and as my worthless self. 

With forty other serviceable knights. 

Under safe-conduct of the Dauphin's seal 

Did travel that way, finding him distress'd, 

A troop of lances met us on the way, 

Surpris'd, and brought us prisoners to the king; 

Who, proud of this, and eager of revenge. 

Commanded straight to cut off all our heads: 

And surely we had died, but that the duke, 
2l8 



A STUDY OF OTHER "SHAKESPEARE" PLAYS 

More full of honour than his angry sire, 
Procur'd our quick deliverance from thence: 
^^But, ere we went, "Salute your king," quoth he, 
"Bid him provide a funeral for his son, 
To-day our sword shall cut his thread of life; 
And, sooner than he thinks, we'll be with him, 
To quittance those displeasures he hath done"': 
This said, we pass'd, not daring to reply; 
Our hearts were dead, our looks diffus'd and wan. 
Wand'ring, at last we climb'd unto a hill; 
From whence, although our grief were much before, 
Yet now to see the occasion with our eyes 
Did thrice so much increase our heaviness: 
For there, my lord, O, there we did descry 
Down in a valley how both armies lay. 
The French had cast their trenches like a ring; 
And every barricado's open front 
Was thick emboss'd with brazen ordinance: 
Here stood a battle of ten thousand horse; 
There twice as many pikes, in quadrantwise; 
Here cross-bows, arm'd with deadly-wounding darts: 
And in the midst, like to a slender point 
Within the compass of the horizon, — 
As't were a rising bubble in the sea, 
A hazel-wand amidst a wood of pines, — 
Or as a bear fast chain'd unto a stake. 
Stood famous Edward, still expecting when 
Those dogs of France would fasten on his flesh. 
Anon, the death-procuring knell begins: 
Off go the cannons, that, with trembling noise, 
Did shake the very mountain where we stood; 
Then sound the trumpets' clangours in the air, 
The battles join: and, when we could no more 
Discern the difference 'twixt the friend and foe, 
(So intricate the dark confusion was) 
Away we turn'd our wat'ry eyes, with sighs 
As black as powder fuming into smoke. 
And thus, I fear, unhappy have I told 
The most untimely tale of Edward's fall. 
Queen. Ah me! is this my welcome into France.? 
Is this the comfort, that I look'd to have, 
When I should meet with my beloved son.? 
Sweet Ned, I would, thy mother in the sea 
Had been prevented of this mortal grief 
Edw. Content thee, Philippa: 'tis not tears will serve 
To call him back, if he be taken hence: 
219 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Comfort thyself, as I do, gentle queen. 
With hope of sharp, unheard-of, dire revenge. — 
He bids me to provide his funeral; 
And so I will: but all the peers in France 
Shall mourners be, and weep out bloody tears, 
Until their empty veins be dry and sere: 
The pillars of his hearse shall be their bones: 
The mould that covers him, their cities' ashes; 
His knell, the groaning cries of dying men; 
And, in the stead of tapers on his tomb. 
An hundred fifty towers shall burning blaze, 
While we bewail our valiant son's decease. 

But grief is soon turned to joy. Although so outnumbered 
by his foes, the vaUant Prince is victorious, and the play thus 
ends: — 

Flourish of trumpets within. Enter a Herald. 
Her. Rejoice, my lord; ascend the imperial throne! 

The mighty and redoubted Prince of Wales, 

Great servitor to bloody Mars in arms. 

The Frenchman's terror, and his country's fame, 

Triumphant rideth like a Roman peer; 

And, lowly at his stirrup, comes afoot 

King John of France, together with his son, 

In captive bonds; whose diadem he brings, 

To crown thee with, and to proclaim thee king. 
Edw. Away with mourning, Philippa, wipe thine eyes; — 

Sound, trumpets, welcome in Plantagenet! 

A loud flourish. Enter Prince., Audley, Jrtois, with King John, and 

Philip. 
As things, long lost, when they are found again, 
So doth my son rejoice his father's heart. 
For whom, even now, my soul was much perplex'dl 

{Running to the Prince, and embracing him. 
Queen. Be this a token to express my joy. (Kissing him. 

For inward passions will not let me speak. 
Prince. My gracious father, here receive the gift. 

{Presenting him with King John's crown. 
This wreath of conquest, and reward of war. 
Got with as mickle peril of our lives, 
As e'er was thing of price before this day; 
Install your highness in your proper right: 
And, herewithal, I render to your hands 
These prisoners, chief occasion of our strife. 

220 



A STUDY OF OTHER "SHAKESPEARE" PLAYS 

Edw. So, John of France, I see, you keep your word. 
You promis'd to be sooner with ourself 
Than we did think for, and 't is so indeed: 
But, had you done at first as now you do. 
How many civil towns had stood untouch'd, 
That now are turn'd to ragged heaps of stones? 
How many people's lives might you have sav'd. 
That are untimely sunk into their graves? 

John. Edward, recount not things irrevocable; 

Tell me what ransom thou requir'st to have? 

Edw. Thy ransom, John, hereafter shall be known; 
But first to England thou must cross the seas, 
To see what entertainment it affords; 
Howe'er it falls, it cannot be so bad 
As ours hath been since we arriv'd in France. 

John. Accursed man! of this I was foretold, 

But did misconster what the prophet told. 
Prince. Now, father, this petition Edward makes, — 

To Thee, {kneels) whose grace hath been his strongest shield 

That, as Thy pleasure chose me for the man 

To be the instrument to show Thy power. 

So Thou wilt grant, that many princes more. 

Bred and brought up within that little isle. 

May still be famous for like victories! — 

And, for my part, the bloody scars I bear, 

The weary nights that I have watch'd in field. 

The dangerous conflicts I have often had. 

The fearful menaces were proffer'd me, 

The heat, and cold, and what else might displease 

I wish were now redoubled twenty-fold; 

So that hereafter ages, when they read 

The painful traffic of my tender youth, 

Might thereby be inflamed with such resolve. 

As not the territories of France alone. 

But likewise Spain, Turkey, and what countries else 

That justly would provoke fair England's ire, 

Might, at their presence, tremble and retire! 

Edw. Here, English lords, we do proclaim a rest. 
And interceasing of our painful arms: 
Sheathe up your swords, refresh your weary limbs. 
Peruse your spoils; and, after we have breath'd 
A day or two within this haven town, 
God willing, then for England, we'll be shipped; 
Where, in a happy hour, I trust, we shall 
Arrive, three kings, two princes, and a queen. 

{Flourish, Exeunt omnes. 
221 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

To get an adequate conception of the greatness of this 
drama, one should read it uninfluenced by those critics who 
reahze, as PhilUpps did, how fatal to their cause it is to cut 
loose from the so-called Canon of Heminge and Condell. Had 
it been included in that collection, we should have had another 
volume or more added to Furness's "Monument of Scholar- 
ship," and Phillipps would have been far less chary in praising 
it. As it was, he was obliged to treat it indifferently in order 
to sustain the futile theory which his predecessors had im- 
posed upon him. To question the infallibility of Heminge and 
Condell, he believed that we "should be launched on a sea 
with a chart in which are unmarked perilous quicksands of in- 
tuitive opinions. Especially is the vessel itself in danger if it 
touches the insidious bank raised up from doubts." 

As in the case of "Edward H," so with that of "Edward 
HL" Parallels of thought and expression with the "Shake- 
speare" Works and those of Francis Bacon are numerous, 
which link it with them in a manner which to an unbiased mind 
is convincing of a common authorship. Both "Edward H" 
and " Edward HI " exhibit defects similar to those in the plays 
comprised in the Canon; defects for which the pla3rwrights 
who had a hand in adapting them to the stage, and the actors 
who altered words and lines, or omitted them in acting, were 
responsible. It was this that justified the nominal but well- 
informed editors of the First Folio in their use of the words 
"mutilated" and "deformed" when speaking of "surrepti- 
tious copies," which they professed were not made use of in 
the work, but which, in a number of instances at least, cer- 
tainly were, owing most likely to haste and oversight while it 
was going through the press. 

We would examine several other dramas once known as 
"Shakespeare" plays, but have thought it better to confine 
ourselves to the seven included in the Third Folio, the two in 
the Leopold Shakespeare, and "Edward II" and "Edward 
III," which reveal the hand of the master. In treating this 

222 



A STUDY OF OTHER "SHAKESPEARE" PLAYS 

branch of our subject we have had in mind the single object of 
presenting to the reader an accurate view of the condition 
to-day of Shaksperian criticism. To do this we have feh it 
necessary to place the critics on the witness stand, that the 
reader might understand the conflicting and unreliable char- 
acter of their testimony, and to devote more time than we 
wished to the "doubtful" plays, that they might better un- 
derstand the scope of this greatest of literary problems. 



VI 

MYTHICAL RELICS 

THE PORTRAITS 

Let us devote ourselves to a critical study of the portraits 
of the Stratford actor, that the reader may be able to form an 
independent judgment respecting them. 

THE DROE SHOUT PORTRAIT 

The first is the most important, as it is the earliest, being 
found in the Folio of 1623, seven years after the death of the 
actor. It is known as the Droeshout portrait, and has been 
considered by his biographers as authentic. Portraits, how- 
ever, of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries were as un- 
reliable as royal favors. When the bewigged and bespectacled 
publisher wanted a portrait to embellish a book to make it 
more salable, he applied to the poor engraver who was usually 
plying his trade in an attic, and procured one. If a portrait of 
the subject had been painted, and a copy of it was obtainable, 
well and good ; but painted portraits were comparatively few, 
even of the great, so the engraver improvised one as well as 
circumstances permitted. 

The writer, while spending a year in the British Archives 
collecting historical material, spent some of his spare mo- 
ments gathering portraits of prominent men of the Tudor and 
Stuart reigns, and, on one occasion, was referred by a Mu- 
seum official to an expert on the portraiture of these reigns. 
He was an aged man, and had a large collection of rare por- 
traits. In discussing portraits difficult of acquisition he proved 
interesting. A portrait of Sir Ferdinando Gorges, the father 
of American colonization, was particularly wanted. All his 
ancient haunts had been visited, correspondence opened with 

224 



MYTHICAL RELICS 

remote relatives, and the unknown portraits at Hampton 
Court, some of them said to have belonged to the Gorges 
family, carefully studied without result. Telling the old 
gentleman of this tedious search, he remarked, "Sir Ferdi- 
nando's portrait was never painted, but I can furnish you 
with one for a guinea." 

But a few years ago the writer studied the portraits of 
Jacques Cartier, and made up his mind that in any case only 
one had an element of authenticity. At the time he was col- 
lecting sixteenth-century French portraits, and called on a 
large collector to look over his treasures. While so engaged 
the question was asked if he had a Cartier. "A very fine one," 
he replied, and passed it out. A glance only was needed, and 
it was handed back. "Don't you like it.?" he asked. "Yes," 
was replied, "only it isn't Cartier." He looked somewhat 
surprised, and asked, "Why?" Fortunately its origin being 
known, he was told. "Am I right.?" was asked, and the reply 
grudgingly made, "Yes." 

The writer has sometimes wondered, when comparing 
portraits of past greatness, whether they at all resembled 
their presumptive subjects. Engravers were wont to use old 
plates, altering or substituting faces as they thought best. 
A well-known example is the equestrian portrait of Charles I. 
After Cromwell assumed rule a portrait of that King of the 
Democracy was required, and a fine equestrian engraving was 
produced. The portraits of the first Charles had been put 
out of sight, and it was some time before it was discovered 
that Cromwell's head had been substituted for that of his de- 
capitated victim. No other change was made in the picture. 
With a subject of less importance a few alterations in lines 
would have served the purpose. 

Of course it is hardly to be believed that the Stratford 
actor's portrait was ever painted during his life. But com- 
paratively few of England's great men were wise enough to 
bequeath their faces to posterity, and though it might have 

225 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

been possible for a strolling actor to have his portrait painted, 
or a rude sketch of his face made, the Stratford actor, as we 
know him, was too careless, and especially too thrifty, to im- 
poverish himself in this manner. He preferred to invest his 
earnings in tithes, loans and real estate, which seemed much 
wiser. How then could Droeshout have managed to pro- 
duce a portrait for the publishers of the Folio of 1623 ? He 
was then a young man not quite twenty-two, and but fifteen 
when the man whose portrait was required died. The portrait 
wanted was of a man at that time obscure, a play actor whose 
name had been associated with plays in minor roles, and his 
face forgotten except by a few persons. What could the en- 
graver do? Why, just as all honest engravers then did, go 
to some one who had known the man, and ask for a descrip- 
tion of him ; whether his face was long or short, full or thin ; 
nose aquiline or bulbous ; eyes large or small, near or far apart, 
and so on. With such particulars a face could be made to pass 
muster though it might not look at all like the man. This is 
what Droeshout would have done if he intended making the 
actor's portrait. 

Martin Droeshout, says Strutt, was one of the indifferent en- 
gravers of the last century. His portraits have nothing but their 
scarcity to recommend them.^ 

Steevens, the biographer of the actor, says: — 

The plate of Droeshout . . . has . . . established his claim to 
the title of a most abominable imitator of humanity. ^ 

Boaden, an excellent early authority on Shaksperian por- 
traiture, says of this portrait : — 

It has been supposed that he engraved after a very coarse 
original, if Indeed he did not work from personal recollection, 

^ Joseph Strutt, A Biographical Dictionary of Engravers, vol. i, p. 264. 
London, 1785. 

^ Samuel Johnson and George Steevens, The Plays of William Shakespeare, 
p. 2. 

226 



MYTHICAL RELICS 

assisted by such hints as might be given by those who desired 
this embellishment for their book.^ 

These are criticisms none too caustic for any fair judge of 
portraiture to endorse, and it became evident to the dev- 
otees of the actor that a portrait more in accord with public 
taste must be found. A Shakspere original would be valuable, 
and it was forthcoming. This was followed by others, and 
the market became overstocked with portraits resembling, 
in some degree, of course, the Droeshout caricature. These 
were usually painted over the portraits of forgotten worthies, 
or. If the form of a head permitted. It was made to ser\^e Its 
purpose by a few skilful changes In outline and expression. 

One of the most active of these painters of spurious por- 
traits of the actor was, says Boaden, "The grandson of an 
artist of indisputable excellence," to whom "misfortune sug- 
gested this sad remedy for indigence." ^ So numerous were 
these spurious portraits that Sidney Lee, whose orthodoxy 
cannot be questioned, informs us that 

It would be futile to attempt to make the record of the pretended 
portraits complete. Upwards of sixty have been offered for sale 
to the National Portrait Gallery since its foundation in 1856, 
and not one of these has proved to possess the remotest claim to 
authenticity.^ 

This Is certainly discouraging. But it has seemed necessary 
that the world should have a portrait of the Stratford actor, 
and several quite as unauthentic still hold the stage, and, as 
the whims or fancies of authors determine, are reproduced 
In the various publications relating to the "Shakespeare" 
Works which are appearing constantly. Among these the 
most popular, perhaps, are the Felton and Chandos portraits, 
so called, and we shall treat them somewhat fully. 

^ James Boaden, Esq., An Inquiry into Various Pictures and Portraits of 
Shakespeare, p. 144. London, 1824. 
* Lee, A Life of Shakespeare, p. 29. 

227 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

THE FELTON PORTRAIT 

Says Steevens : — 

On Friday, August 9, (1794) Mr. Richardson, printeseller of 
Castle Street, Leicester Square, assured Mr. Steevens, that in 
the course of business, having recently waited on Mr. Felton, of 
Curzon Street, May Fair, this gentleman showed him an ancient 
head resembling the portrait of Shakspeare, as engraved by 
Martin Droeshout in 1623. This portrait was purchased at a 
public sale in 1792 by S. Felton of Drayton, Shropshire, for five 
guineas, and was catalogued as, "A curious portrait of Shak- 
speare painted in 1597." 

After the sale the purchaser, seeking its history from the 
auctioneer, was told that it was formerly in the Boar's Head 
Tavern, an unfortunate story, it seems, for Steevens declares 
that so many spurious portraits had been sold as coming from 
the Boar's Head that it was "high time that picture dealers 
should avail themselves of another story, this being completely 
worn out and no longer fit for service." Felton then tried to 
trace its origin. He sought Sloman, the landlord, and his 
wife, who kept the tavern when the picture was said to have 
been in the house ; but both had died, and later he found their 
successor, who ought to have known if it had been there, as 
he was the former landlord's assistant before assuming charge 
of the premises ; but he also declared his utter ignorance of 
the portrait. The price it was sold at is sufficient to show 
how it was regarded by connoisseurs of the time; but the 
Chandos portrait, the reputation of which had been bolstered 
up by its aristocratic ownership, was losing ground, and here 
was a financial opportunity for a sharp picture dealer. The 
result was the exploitation of the Felton Shakspere. 

Of course the rival dealer who was publishing the Chandos 
"original" came to the rescue of his favorite, and truths of an 
amusing character were told. We read that "The few remain- 
ing advocates of the Chandosan Canvas," declared that the 
Felton "original" "exhibited not a single trait of Shakspeare's 

228 





THE DROESIIOUT THE FELTON 





THE CHANCOS THE JANSSEN 

THE BEST KNOWN OF THE "SHAKESPEARE" PORTRAITS 



MYTHICAL RELICS 

countenance," not even of that "deformed by Droeshout," 
but resembled "The sign of Sir Roger de Coverly when it had 
been changed to a Saracen's head, on which occasion the Spec- 
tator observes that the features of the gentle Knight were 
still apparent through the lineaments of the ferocious Mussul- 
man." Even the stiff collar was held up for disapproval, and 
its "pointed corners, resembling the wings of a bat," were said 
to be "constant indications of a mischievous agency." 

But in spite of these fierce onslaughts, the new aspirant for 
public favor prospered, and when its promoters succeeded in 
inducing Boydell and Nicol to make it the frontispiece of 
their new edition of the works, and publicly announced that 
these incomparable experts were "thoroughly convinced of 
the genuineness of Mr.Felton's Shakspeare,"^ and should use 
it "instead of having recourse to the exploded Picture in- 
herited by the Chandos Family," its rival was quite eclipsed. 

THE CHANDOS PORTRAIT 

This portrait had the honor of being copied by Sir Joshua 
Reynolds, and also for Malone by Humphrey, as well as for 
Capell by an unknown hand. On the back of his copy Malone 
has inscribed the following: — 

The original having been painted by a very ordinary hand, 
having been at some subsequent period painted over, and being 
now in a state of decay, this copy, which is a very faithful one, 
is, in my opinion, invaluable. 

Yet of these copies Boaden notes this important difference, 
that Sir Joshua's copy is characterized by smartness and 
pleasantry; that of Mr. Humphrey by thoughtful gravity; 
and of Capell's he remarks : — 

Whether Sir Joshua used the freedom to mix something of the 
expression of the bust with his copy of the picture, I know not, 
but certainly he has given to his work a brisk pertness, which is 

^ Steevens, The Plays of William Shakespeare, pp. 4-18. 
229 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

clearly not in the copy made for Mr. Capell, and which I certainly 
do not believe to have ever been visible on the original.^ 

It would be interesting to know how the "original" which 
had been "at some subsequent period painted over," origi- 
nally looked. 

Boaden gives the pedigree of the Chandos portrait. Start- 
ing with Joseph Taylor, an actor, in 1653, he traces it to 
William Davenant, the son of the innkeeper whose tavern the 
Stratford actor is said to have patronized when on his infre- 
quent journeys to and from London after the purchase of 
New Place; then through Betterton to Mrs. Barry, the actress, 
by whom it was sold to Robert Keck; and finally into the 
possession of the Marquis of Caernarvon. Of its authenticity 
Boaden cites a tradition that it was originally painted for 
Sir Thomas Charges "from a young man who had the good 
fortune to resemble the actor." William Davenant was a boy 
ten years old when the actor died, and, says Boaden, "There 
is a high probability that he remembered his person, and was 
sure of the verisimilitude of Taylor's picture." Davenant, 
who, by the way, was Charles II 's poet laureate and was 
knighted, Sidney Lee describes as "morally a poor creature." 
Referring to the statements made in the pedigree of the 
Chandos portrait he says : — 

There is not a particle even of presumptive evidence in favor 
of either one of these assertions. And were the portraits clearly 
traceable to Davenant, some better testimony than his bare word, 
or even his actual belief, is necessary to establish the authenticity 
of such a picture. In my judgment, the Chandos head has no 
claim whatever to be regarded as a contemporary portrait of 
Shakespeare.^ 

It is amusing to note that Kneller made a copy of the 
Chandos head and presented it to Dryden, whom, Boaden 
with a quaint "humor remarks, distinguished himself by 

^ Boaden, An Inquiry, etc., p. 42. 
^ Lee, A Life of Shakespeare, p. cxxiii. 

230 



MYTHICAL RELICS 

cramming upon Kneller the very drug with which Ben Jonson 
had so long before choked the Dutchman Droeshout. Even the 
rhymes are the same. 

Jonson: Wherein the Graver had a strife 

With Nature to out do the hfe. 
Dryden: Such are thy pieces imitating Hfe 

So near they almost conquer in the strife. 

Of the Felton portrait Lee says : — 

The very period at which this head first came into public 
notice casts suspicion upon it; for Shakespeare forgery and 
fabrication then were rife. 

And referring to the inscription on the back of the por- 
trait : — 

This inscription was, by those who first brought the picture 
into notice, and by the publisher of the first engraving from it, 
supposed to be "Guil Shakspeare, 1597, R.N. "; and it was not 
until some years after that Mr. Abraham Wivell, a painter, hav- 
ing rubbed some oil upon the back of the picture to nourish the 
decayed wood, brought out the writing more clearly, and dis- 
covered that it was "Guil Shakespeare, 1597, R.B." 

This seems easy of explanation. The forger of the portrait 
had to put initials of some sort on his picture, and having no 
knowledge of the tradition that Shakspere's fellow actor, 
Burbage, was said to have been an amateur painter, he took 
the first which came to mind ; later, when the owner became 
aware of the tradition, he realized that changing the N to 
B would identify the portrait as an original, and greatly en- 
hance its pecuniary value. It was an easy thing to put some 
oil upon it to "nourish the wood," and by so doing, and the 
stroke of a brush, cause a very plausible transformation of 
the offending letter. But was Burbage a portrait painter.? 
Referring to Granger, who has been mentioned as having 
given currency to the tradition, it is found that Granger ac- 
quired his information from the "Critical Review" (London) 
for December, 1770, but the article in question states that it 

231 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

was " Painted by either Richard Burbage or John Taylor^ the 
player, the latter of whom left it by will to Sir William Dav- 
enant."^ After a persistent search to verify the tradition re- 
specting Burbage's use of the brush in portraiture, we ven- 
ture the opinion that it originates in an abominable elegy 
written on his death, March 13, 1618. It is entitled, "On Mr. 
Richard Burbidg our excellent both player and painter," and 
begins, "Some skillful limner aid me." 

So far as we have been able to ascertain, Burbage never 
painted a portrait in his life, though we have a portrait said 
not only to have been painted by him, but of himself. Cer- 
tainly there is no portrait known to have been painted by 
him, and no contemporaneous evidence to support the tradi- 
tion mentioned by Granger but the word "painter," used by 
an unknown and verbose scribbler, and a head of a woman 
in the Dulwich Collection. 

There is, however, an entry in an account book found at 
Belvoir Castle that on March 31, 161 3, Shakspere and Bur- 
bage were paid forty-four shillings each about my Lorde's 
"impresso"; that is, a representation of his arms or other in- 
signia. Burbage probably painted his rude stage scenery, as 
actors often have done, and this may have been what his 
elegist meant. This kind of coarse painting was what the 
steward of Belvoir required for the pageant. 

But how did the actor come into the transaction.^ He had 
been the factotum in arranging scenery for the plays he put 
upon the stage for Burbage, who, on his way through Strat- 
ford to Belvoir in the adjacent county of Leicester, bethought 
him of his old assistant, and engaged him to lend a hand for 
similar work in the coming pageant. The actor's employment 
for this service throws a clear light upon the character of his 
employment when in the service of Burbage during his Lon- 
don career. 

^ Rev. J. Granger, A Biographical History of England, vol. i, p. 259. London, 
1804. 

232 



MYTHICAL RELICS 

With regard to the Dulwich portrait, which has been pointed 
to as proof that Burbage was an artist, finding nothing satis- 
factory in print upon the subject, the writer thought best to 
investigate it, and found that a portrait of a young woman in a 
dark green bodice with red sleeves, the head turned to the left, 
painted on a canvas twenty by sixteen and a half inches, and 
numbered 103, was described on Cartwright's Catalogue, as 
^' A woman s head on a bord, dun by Mr. Burbige, ye Actor. ^^ 
Mr. Bicknell, clerk to the Governors of Dulwich, in a letter to 
the writer respecting it, says : "The identification, however, 
can hardly be correct. It will be observed that this picture is 
on canvas, while the head, painted by Burbage, was on panel." 
To identify No. 103 with the portrait described in the cata- 
logue, Mr. Bicknell kindly calls attention to the fact that 
Lysons, in his "Environs of London," 1792, describes this 
picture as in chiaro obscure "a description," he says, "which 
so far would apply to this picture." It would be of some inter- 
est to know how the name of Burbage got into Cartwright's 
Catalogue, though, if it substantiated the claim that he was 
an artist, it would add nothing to the authenticity of the Fel- 
ton portrait, which is too palpable a fraud to be rehabilitated, 
though it might give us a new crop of "R.B." originals of 
the Stratford actor. 

THE JANSSEN PORTRAIT 

Let us now consider the Janssen portrait which has been 
claimed to have been painted for Southampton of his "favor- 
ite poet," for the only reason that Janssen painted his lord- 
ship. 

This is another "original" with a descriptive pedigree. 
Janssen was a Dutch painter, the date of whose birth has been 
disputed, but which is now ascertained to have been in 1593, 
and as this picture is dated 1610, he would have been but 
seventeen, which, in itself, is sufllicient proof that he could not 
have painted the portrait in question, as the character of the 

233 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

work shows that it was the work of an artist of experience; in 
fact, it is evident that it was never intended as a portrait of 
the actor. That it has been tampered with since it was ex- 
ploited as an original Shakspere is proved by an engraving 
made by Earldom for Jennens, a former owner, upon which 
appears above the head a scroll bearing the words, "UT 
MAGUS " =Like a Magician. Experts, too, who have studied 
it, are of the opinion that the figure "6" in "46" has been 
changed from a cipher. This portrait was first brought to 
public notice in 1761, and the most ingenious attempts have 
been made to carry it back to the time it purports to have 
been painted ; hence, three different pedigrees have been pro- 
vided for it, neither of which can be regarded as of the least 
value by any one who has not been infected by the Stratford 
bacillus. Steevens was the first to assail its authenticity, and 
since his time it has been a storm center of profitless dispute. 
That it was intended for a portrait of some old worthy, who 
would be surprised if he could return and see what a fuss has 
been made over his once admired portrait, is not open to 
doubt. The portrait has, however, served a purpose, as other 
''originals" show its influence blended with that of Droes- 
hout, which, to some minds, is even made to establish its own 
authenticity. 

THE ASHBOURNE PORTRAIT 

This picture has no pedigree. It came before the pubHc 
when pedigrees of original Shaksperes were in such bad odor 
that it was thought prudent to have it appear like a bolt from 
the blue. In this case, *'A friend in London wrote to the 
second master of the Free Grammar School at Ashbourne, 
Derbyshire," that he had seen a portrait of Shakspere that he 
was positive was a genuine picture, and that the owner only 
valued it as a very fine painting. Being too poor to purchase 
it himself, he advised the schoolmaster "by all means to have 
it." The reply went back, "Secure the prize," much, doubt- 

234 




THE ASHBOURNE 



THE GRAFTON 




THE ZUCCHERO 



THE SANDERS 1 



'Though Holder's opinion was that this was the work of Zincke, his partner in fraud, with whose 
style he was familiar, this has been held in high esteem by many of the actor's devotees. 



MYTHICAL RELICS 

less, to the satisfaction of " the friend," who, if the story of the 
find be true, had a good opportunity to gather in a legitimate 
commission. We should remember, however, that the poor 
schoolmaster was a painter himself in his leisure hours, and 
sold his original for four hundred pounds. The Ashbourne 
purports to have been painted a year later than the Janssen, 
and bears all the familiar ear-marks of a faked antique, yet 
believers in the Messianic actor regard it as an example of 
genuine portraiture. That it has borrowed an influence from 
both the Droeshout and Janssen is evident. 

THE GRAFTON PORTRAIT 

This portrait but recently came to public notice, creating 
quite a sensation. It claims to have been painted in 1588, 
when the actor was twenty-four years of age, about the time 
when he was working about the Burbage stables, and picking 
up a living as best he could. The story is that it was origi- 
nally given by the Duke of Grafton to one of his servants, and 
descended from him for several generations to the present 
owner. The letters "W. S." are on the stretcher, and 
"lESYJE 24," and the date "1588," on the upper corners 
respectively. Although it has been regarded by many as a 
vivid representation of the actor in early manhood, no one 
with cool judgment can regard it otherwise than as a glaring 
fraud. It is one of those portraits of which O. Halliwell- 
Phillipps sorrowfully says, speaking of those who require 
rational evidence of the authenticity of portraits of the 
actor: — 

There are others to whom a picture's history is not of the 
slightest moment, their reflective instinct enabling them, with- 
out effort or investigation, to recognize in an old curiosity shop 
the dramatic visage that belonged to the author of "Ham- 
let." ' 

^ J. O. Halliwell-Phillipps, F.R.S., Outlines of the Life of Shakespeare, vol. i, 
p. 297. London, 1889. 

23 s 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

THE ZUCCHERO PORTRAIT 

This portrait represents a writer, his head resting upon his 
right hand. He appears to be in deep meditation upon a 
subject which he is composing. The age of the man is perhaps 
twenty-five, certainly not over thirty. On the back of the 
panel upon which it is painted are the words "Guglielm 
Shakspere." The artist, whose work this portrait purports 
to be, was a Roman Catholic, who, having caused offense at 
the Papal Court, fled and sought a domicile in England in 
1574, and had the honor of painting the Queen of Scots, and 
subsequently, Elizabeth. One of Bacon's portraits is said to 
be from his brush. 

The so-called Shakspere is in every respect Italian, and 
bears not the slightest resemblance to the Droeshout, which 
has been supposed to represent the traditional features of the 
actor, and has served in a greater or less degree as a study for 
other painters; in fact, it bears a resemblance to the head of 
Tasso. Zucchero left England, says Boaden, in 1584.^ This 
is before the actor left Stratford ; at that time he was wholly 
unknown and in dire poverty. Boaden suggests that it is a 
portrait of the artist's brother, Taddio, possibly his own, and 
he calls attention to the coincidences of Zucchero's death 
with that of the actor, 1616. 

THE SANDERS PORTRAIT 

The Sanders portrait is a veritable antique, and no doubt 
belongs to the period of the Centenary, or the Garrick Jubilee 
of 1769, when spurious Shaksperes were numerous and ne- 
gotiable. It has all the hall-marks of Zincke and Holder, 
though, of course, these were not the only sinners who faked 
the pictures of the great, and had them discovered as coming 
from the Boar's Head, or behind wainscotting, or in other out- 
of-the-way places ; there were many others. This picture is on 

^ Boaden, An Inquiry, etc., p. 62. 
236 





THE ZOUST 



THE STRATFORD 




THE ELI HOUSE 



THE FLOWER 



Note the direct influence of the " Felton " which reflects a modified influence from the " Droeshout. 
The anatomical slruclure of all these heads show marked diiTerences. 



THE BEST KNOWN OF THE "SHAKESPEARE" PORTI-LAITS 



MYTHICAL RELICS 

a panel sixteen and a half by thirteen inches, and hardly has 
a feature in common with any other representation of the 
actor. If it were painted for a spurious portrait, the painter 
made some very unnecessary blunders, especially in his treat- 
ment of the hair, which he might better have made to con- 
form in some degree to other portraits. It may have been a 
genuine portrait of some one to which the application of the 
written slip of paper on the back was all that the dealer who 
sold it deemed necessary to give it currency. Another blunder 
was made in the inscription, the paper and handwriting being 
unquestionably modern, possibly forty or fifty years old. The 
portrait is unworthy of the space we have given it. The fol- 
lowing is the inscription : — 

Shakspere 

Born April 23-1564 

Died April 23-1616 

Aged 52 

This Likeness taken 1603, 

Age at that time 39 yrs. 

THE ZOUST PORTRAIT 

The Zoust portrait first came to light in the possession of a 
London painter in 1725, and for some time was exploited as a 
discovery of importance ; in fact, it was considered one of the 
many originals of the actor, whose time was supposed to have 
been so largely occupied from youth in sitting for his portrait 
that one of his biographers expresses wonder that, amid all 
his exacting occupations, he found so much time to devote 
to portrait painters. But the Zoust portrait finally came to 
grief when it was discovered that the pseudo-painter was not 
born until 1637, twenty-one years after the actor's death; 
and yet, this portrait has been thought to be of sufficient in- 
terest to receive the honor of being exhibited in the Memo- 
rial Gallery at Stratford, and of having served as a guide to 
the artist who modeled the bust in Westminster Abbey. 

237 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

THE STRATFORD, THE ELY HOUSE, AND THE FLOWER PORTRAITS 

There are three portraits in the possession of the Birth- 
place Trustees at Stratford, all exhibited as originals to the 
twenty-five or thirty thousand tourists who annually visit 
their town greatly to its enrichment. 

The Stratford is a painting wholly without value as a genu- 
ine relic or as a work of art, and no critic of judgment has yet 
ventured to imperil his reputation by indorsing it. Yet it is 
old, probably a century old, and resembles the bust from 
which it is thought to have been painted. The Town Clerk 
Mr. Hunt, having purchased it for a song at a second-hand 
shop, presented it in 1867 to the Trustees, and the obsequious 
guide will exhibit it to you with an approving air, but, should 
you raise the question of originality, will regard you with an 
air of severity. 

The Ely House portrait is inscribed "Ae. 39 x 1603." It 
exhibits evidence of having been copied from the Droeshout 
engraving by an artist of considerable ability, though, owing 
to the absence of details conspicuous in the Droeshout, doubts 
have been expressed whether this evidence is sufficient to iden- 
tify it ; but there are so many faulty points in this famous en- 
graving which a skilled artist would dislike to reproduce that 
we are warranted in entertaining the inference that the painter 
of the Ely picture judiciously ignored the more glaring faults 
of the engraving, and gave rein to his fancy as others have 
done in painting pictures of the actor. This picture possesses 
no claim whatever to authenticity. 

The Flower portrait which all Stratfordians now loyally 
asseverate is the only original, the very one from which 
Droeshout made his engraving, was discovered by a Strat- 
ford gentleman in 1892 at Peckham Rye, in the possession of 
"A private gentleman with artistic tastes," who purchased 
it of "An obscure dealer about 1840." As before remarked, 
pedigrees had once been supposed to be requisite, but in every 

238 





THE JENNINGS 



THE BURN 





THE WINSTANLEY 



THE BELMONT HALL 



MYTHICAL RELICS 

case they had proved to be inconvenient as so many keen 
critics offensively appUed themselves to ferreting out their 
validity; hence this aspirant for favor must have no pedigree 
whatever. The bare assertion that one gentleman purchased 
it from another gentleman "of taste," who was fortunate 
enough to have purchased it of an "obscure" dealer who knew 
nothing about it, should be quite sufficient; in fact, should 
disarm all meddlesome critics. Such people have nothing to 
assail in this case, not even a prevaricating dealer to entangle 
with perplexing questions. All they can do is to study the 
new "original" itself. It is described as "Painted on a panel 
formed of two planks of old elm." The use of the word "old," 
of course, intensifies the antique flavor of the picture. In the 
upper left-hand corner is the inscription "Will"^ Shakespeare, 
1609." That it is a copy of the Droeshout instead of being its 
prototype, no one can doubt who has not been hypnotized by 
yielding his reason to the New Messianic cult. It can hardly 
be urged by our Stratford friends that Droeshout would have 
added the objectionable dark lines about the back of the face, 
which so strongly suggest the edges of a mask, if it. had not 
been in a model from which they assume he copied ; while it 
can be convincingly urged that a copyist of the ability dis-. 
played in the painting would not reproduce them in so marked 
a manner. But there must be an authentic portrait of the new 
Messiah, and this is certainly more interesting than the en- 
graving ; but what can be said of it when the latter is proved 
to be unauthentic, as we hope to show .? 

THE JENNINGS PORTRAIT 

The Jennings portrait is among the more absurd of the 
two hundred or more "original" portraits of the actor. It 
was first known as the property of H. C. Jennings, of Batter- 
sea. In the upper left corner, the inscription, "^ 33," is 
conspicuous, and conveniently synchronizes the date of paint- 
ing with the dedication of "Venus and Adonis" to the Earl 

239 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

of Southampton, to whose family Jennings claimed to have 
traced it. It should be compared with 

THE BURN PORTRAIT 

Which has had the honor of being exhibited at Burlington 
House, and the South Kensington "Shakespeare Show." 
These portraits are of quite different people, yet the owners 
imagine when they behold them that they are looking upon 
a likeness of the author of ''Hamlet." Self-deception could 
hardly go farther. 

THE WINSTANLEY PORTRAIT 

There has been much acrimonious discussion over this por- 
trait, which first came to light in the hands of Mr.Winstanley, 
an auctioneer of Liverpool, in 1819. The owner, though 
spoken of as a reputable man, became mixed up later with 
other fraudulent portraits, wKich awakened unpleasant sus- 
picion of his integrity; in fact, he was publicly charged with 
being on good terms with picture fakers. He certainly knew 
Holder according to an anecdote related by himself. This por- 
trait bears the following inscription : — 

As Hollie, Ivie, MIsseltoe Defie the wintrie blaste 
Despite of chillings Envie so thy well earn'd fame shall laste 
Then let ye ever livinge laurel beare thy much beloved name 
O Will. Shakspere. B. J. 

The initials are supposed to stand for those of Ben Jonson, 
who would probably disown them in vigorous terms were he 
alive. Holder, who seems to have regarded picture-faking 
as a legitimate mhier, recognized it as the work of Zincke, his 
old-time associate in the business. This ought sufficiently to 
determine its status; but it will be possible at any time for 
some adventurous spirit to discover in it, as in the case of the 
Cunningham, or Revel's document, a genuine original, and to 
have his discovery hailed by enthusiasts as genuine beyond 
all possibility of doubt. 

240 




SHAKSPERE MARRIAGE PICTURE 



MYTHICAL RELICS 



THE MARRIAGE PICTURE 



The height of absurdity has been reached by this painting, 

which was discovered by Holder, the one-time associate of 

Zincke, the unscrupulous manufacturer of spurious portraits 

of the Stratford actor. In spite of the obscurity and poverty 

of the unfortunate actor, and his hasty marriage, it professes 

to be a contemporary painting of the event. Holder claimed to 

have bought It In 1872 with several other dilapidated pictures, 

this being so bad that he at first thought it to be worthless, 

but upon cleaning it, found the following inscription : — 

Rare Lymnynge Marriage of Anne Hathaway 

With vs doth make appere William Shakespere. 

He soon sold it at a good price to a Mr. John Mandan, who 
described It, in the London "Notes and Queries" of 1872, as 
representing Richard Hathaway and his wife, Jone, weighing 
out a marriage portion for their daughter, Anne. In the ad- 
joining room is to be seen through the open doorway the mar- 
riage service in progress. Of course, it was necessary to pre- 
serve Droeshout's bald head, even if the bridegroom was but 
eighteen. This, and the inscription, should be sufficient to 
condemn it, to say nothing of the oversight of representing a 
poor farmer weighing out a liberal marriage portion for his 
daughter with all the paraphernalia of a rich banker. Neither 
space nor patience will permit a reproduction of the ridiculous 
arguments adduced to prove its authenticity as a veritable 
representation of the marriage in 1582. Yet enough has been 
written about it to make a volume, and, eventually. It may 
find its way to Stratford, and be placed with other "original" 
relics. 

Perhaps some readers may not be aware that there are 
thousands of portraits of the forgotten dead flitting about 
as if vainly seeking recognition, or stored away in antique 
shops the world over, those dim haunts so redolent of the 
storied past, which fascinate beyond reason the wandering 

241 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

antiquarian. Some of these portraits, revealing high artistic 
abihty, are of men and women who evidently enjoyed distin- 
guished positions, social, and even official, in this whirligig 
world, and are subjects of study to determine, if possible, to 
whom they belonged, as the writer knows, his opinion having 
been sought on such occasions. Very few, however, are res- 
cued from the forgotten, and restored to their true place 
among the remembered. These forgotten portraits have ex- 
periences which would astonish their former owners; some, 
by inconsiderable changes, being transformed into the por- 
traits of historical personages of the more or less remote past. 
A few initials, a date, an insignia, if needed, are worked in so 
as to be difficult to decipher, and the work becomes a rare 
old original, and, of course, valuable to somebody. Others of 
these esprits perdus find themselves on tapestried walls amidst 
costly surroundings, playing, perhaps, the part of ancestors 
in a modern family drama. This is probably less uncommon 
than may be imagined. The writer, some years ago, visited 
the suburbs of a neighboring city to examine a library adver- 
tised as "rare," as it was, indeed, too rare for his taste. The 
owner of the place, which was beautiful for situation, had 
suddenly acquired fortune by inheritance, and had proceeded 
to expend it "artistically." The buildings, surrounded by 
splendid trees, real antiques, represented a feudal castle with 
its appendages, surmounted by battlements of wood, and the 
approach was guarded by a portcullis, also of wood. There 
was a chapel, and in the dim light was a tomb upon which 
reposed a recumbent figure ingeniously painted to simulate 
marble, and about the walls were glittering suits of armor, 
such reproductions as one finds in Florence or Milan, costing, 
perhaps, three or four guineas. But a greater surprise awaited 
one, when painfully stooping to pass under a low arch at the 
end of a passage, which had probably been copied from some 
mediaeval castle, he came upon a hall with the family por- 
traits. These were of all kinds and of varied facial expression. 

242 




BECKER DEATH MASK 




STRATFORD DEATH MASK 



MYTHICAL RELICS 

They had been summoned by the magic wand of weahh 
from the uncongenial Umbo of an antique shop to this no less 
uncongenial habitation, and looked painfully aware of their 
degradation. Suffice it to say that they passed under the auc- 
tioneer's hammer, and were scattered to the four winds. Per- 
haps these wandering spirits are now playing their sorry old 
role of ancestral celebrities in the families of other nouveaux 
riches. What a pity that their proud owners could not have 
taken them with them. 

THE BECKER DEATH MASK 

This death mask bears the name of its discoverer, Dr. 
Becker, "who found it in a rag shop in Mayence" some time 
in 1849. The subject being unknown, and having a bald head 
with a long and somewhat full face, suggested the head of the 
Stratford actor as disclosed by some of his many "original" 
portraits; besides, the date, 1616, was scratched on its back. 
This date, however, if originally placed upon it, would not be 
any proof of its authenticity, for many men with similar heads 
died in that year. The owner, of course, took his precious 
find to London, where it was hailed as the very model used 
by the sculptor of the bust. It was also noted as settling any 
question of authenticity, that it had a "few reddish hairs" 
sticking to the plaster on the apex of the forehead. 

So well is the Becker mask regarded, that it forms the fron- 
tispiece of the twelfth volume of the recent edition of the 
"Shakespeare" Works printed from the Folio of 1623, and is 
regarded by readers, generally, as a genuine presentment of 
the face of their author. 

THE STRATFORD DEATH MASK 

Strange to say another death mask has come to light very 
recently. It is true that it is unlike the Becker mask, but it 
also has "near the ear a small tuft of reddish hair." Besides, 
it has a point better than the Becker, for in addition to the 

243 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

date, 1616, this mask has the initials, "W. S.," scratched 
upon it. The ** reddish hair" seems a bit unfortunate, as it is 
Kkely to remind one of coincidences of a kindred nature in the 
Boar's Head Tavern portraits, but this is a minor detail per- 
haps unworthy of notice, as is also the fact that the faces are 
unlike. It is, perhaps, needless to remark that this last dis- 
covery is now declared to be very like the bust, though the 
modeling of the nose and cheeks was exceedingly clumsy ; hence 
it is suggested, — 

That the sculptor of the monument, wishful to render the fea- 
tures of Shakespeare as they were in life and not in death, modeled 
up the squeeze from the death mask, filling up the sunken cheeks, 
smoothing away the wrinkles and roughnesses and pores which 
generally appear on a death mask, and remodeling the nose, the 
tip of which invariably takes a different shape after death. -^ 

This death mask was found " in the shop of a curio dealer in 
the Midlands," and, naturally, has no pedigree ; yet in the next 
edition of the "Shakespeare" Works we may expect to see 
it reproduced as another genuine likeness of the actor, though 
its rival, which has so long held the stage, does not represent 
the face of the same man. 

Let us now take up the bust, and, in conclusion, continue 
our remarks on the Droeshout engraving, which the best 
critics fall back upon as unassailable. 

Says Phillips: — 

The Stratford effigy and this engraving are the only unques- 
tionably authentic representations of the living Shakespeare that 
are known to exist, not one of the numerous others, for which 
claims to the distinction have been advanced, having an eviden- 
tial pedigree of a satisfactory character.^ 

Sidney Lee, Chairman of the Executive Committee of the 
Trustees, and Guardians of Shakspere's Birthplace, writing 
later, says: — 

^ P. C. Konodes, in The London Illustrated News, June 17, 191 1. 
* Phillipps, Outlines, etc., vol. i, pp. 286, 297. 

244 




■T^ii 



KA> 




W 

< 
Q 
O 
P 



q Id 

o 
w 

H 



MYTHICAL RELICS 

Aubrey reported that Shakespeare was "a handsome well- 
shaped man," but no portrait exists which can be said with ab- 
solute certainty to have been executed during his lifetime, al- 
though one has been recently discovered with a good claim to 
that distinction, the Flower. Only two of the extant portraits 
are positively known to have been produced within a short 
period after his death. These are the bust in Stratford Church, 
and the frontispiece to the Folio of 1623, the Droeshout. Each is 
an inartistic attempt at a posthumous likeness.^ 

THE BUST 

The twelfth volume of the late Reprint of the Folio of 1623 
has for a frontispiece this bust, accompanied by the following 
statement : — 

This, the oldest representation of Shakespeare in existence, 
is placed on the north side of the chancel of Holy Trinity Church, 
Stratford, over the poet's grave. It was sculptured by either 
Gerard Johnson or one of his sons, shortly after Shakespeare's 
death, and was originally in colour. In 1793, these colours were 
obscured by white paint, which in turn was removed in 1861, and 
the colouring restored. The carving is of no artistic merit, but 
its authenticity has been so long established, as to render its 
place secure at the head of Shakespearian likenesses. 

This statement is almost wholly erroneous. It is not the 
oldest representation of the actor in existence; it was not 
sculptured by Gerard Johnson, — more correctly, Gerald 
Janssen, — nor one of his sons shortly after his death; nor 
does it stand at the head of his likenesses, if the Droeshout is 
what Stratfordians claim it to be, "An original, but inartistic 
portrait." If it looks at all like him, the Droeshout, which 
Stratfordians are obliged to cling to because of Jonson's 
expression regarding it, would be discredited. Steevens took 
a Droeshout engraving nearly a century ago, and climbing up 
to it, measured and compared the two, and declared that they 
were quite unlike. Another biographer, after a critical study 

^ Lee, A Life of Shakespeare, p. 286. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

of it, not only freely expressed his doubts regarding it, but of 
all other pseudo likenesses of the actor. He says : — 

It would be gratifying if we could give any faith to the tradi- 
tion which asserts that the bust of this monument was sculptured 
from a cast moulded on the face of the departed poet. But the 
cast, if taken, must have been taken immediately after death, 
and we know neither at whose expense the monument was con- 
structed, nor by whose hand it was executed, nor at what precise 
time it was erected. But if we cannot rely upon the Stratford 
bust for a resemblance of our immortal dramatist, where are we 
to look with any hope of finding a trace of his features.? It is 
highly probable that no portrait of him was painted during his 
life, and it is certain that no portrait of him with an incontesta- 
ble claim to genuineness is at present in existence.^ 

Yet, strange to say, he gives "the fairest title to authen- 
ticity" to the Chandos which White denominates "an ear- 
ringed, full bearded, heavy-eyed thing, unsupported by a 
particle of evidence that reaches to within three-quarters of 
a century of the time at which it must have been painted, if it 
were really authentic." ^ But what shall we think when we 
find that the original bust has disappeared, and been forgot- 
ten, and another one, wholly unlike the first, is the one with 
which the actor's biographers, whom we have quoted, have 
been deceiving themselves ? And yet this is a fact. 

In 1656, a history of Warwickshire was published in which 
appeared an engraving of the bust as it then was. This shows 
quite a different face from the present one, and in place of the 
flat cushion with the person represented holding a pen in his 
right hand, and the left resting upon a piece of paper as though 
engaged in the act of composition, is a woolsack pressed to the 
body. The figures and accessories are similar but unlike. Were 
it not for these changes, it might be contended with some 
plausibility that Dugdale's sketch was imperfect, but, fortu- 

^ Charles Symmons, D.D., The Dramatic Works of William Shakspeare, p. 11. 
Hartford, 1841. 

"^ Richard Grant White, The Works of William Shakespeare, vol. i, p. 125. 
Boston, 1865. 

246 



MYTHICAL RELICS 

nately, we have a record of the time the changes In the bust 
were made. It having become dilapidated, John Ward, already 
mentioned in connection with the Furness gloves, an actor, 
and grandfather of Mrs. Siddons, who was in Stratford in 
1746, conceived the idea of "restoring" it. He therefore gave 
a representation of Othello for the purpose of raising funds to 
carry out his laudable design. A sufficient sum having been 
obtained the work was commenced, the restorer having orders 
not only to repair but to beautify it. The result we now see. 
Some one may raise the question of the picture by Virtue made 
for Pope's edition of the works of 1725, but they might as well 
raise the question regarding Gravelot's engraving in Hanmer's 
edition of 1774 ^^ Grignion's of 1786, twenty-six and thirty- 
eight years after the restoration. Both are largely fanciful 
creations of the engravers, who did not take the trouble to 
go to Stratford for their material. In the case of Grignion, 
he copied from Dugdale, but Virtue and Gravelot indulged 
their fancies to the extent of introducing an entirely new bust, 
and changing the position of the cherubs and skull. In the 
restoration it is plain to see that the '* restorers," who appear 
to have been given a free hand, took hints from Virtue's 
design. We may regard Dugdale's, then, as the original 
sketch of the bust, drawn only twenty years after the actor's 
death. 

And yet Sidney Lee, in his so-called "Life" of Shake- 
speare, says : — 

Before 1623 an elaborate monument by a London sculptor of 
Dutch birth, was erected to Shakespeare's memory in the chan- 
cel of the parish church. It includes a half-length bust depicting 
the dramatist on the point of writing. The fingers of the right 
hand are disposed as If holding a pen, and under the left hand Is 
a quarto sheet of paper. 

This is sufficient to show Lee's inexcusably careless method 
of working. Had he given a student's study to his subject, 
he would have discovered the fact that the bust with the pen 

247 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

in one hand, and the other on a sheet of paper, was erected 
a hundred and thirty years after the actor's death. 

Of course it may be objected that Dugdale was careless, 
"probably," for this is the favorite word used by Stratford- 
ians for or against every thesis; but Dugdale, on the con- 
trary, was a born antiquary, and the care which he exhibited 
in his treatment of the architectural details surrounding the 
bust, and of other similar work of his, disposes of such a 
charge. The attitude of the cherubs, the shield, the hour- 
glass and spade, the woolsack, were never invented by him 
we may be sure. But how dispose of Rowe, who was familiar 
with the bust as late as 1709, and in his work gives a repre- 
sentation of it with but a slight difference in facial expression, 
no more so than is usually found in the work of artists of the 
period ? The woolsack is especially suggestive. The actor was 
a trader in wool, an occupation of which his family was much 
prouder than of that of a player; hence their choice of a sack of 
wool which was their most appropriate and, no doubt, most 
highly prized family emblem. The old bust was possibly the 
work of Gerald Janssen, and while it was not a work of art, 
we may reasonably believe that it is the only likeness which 
we have of the actor, made for his family by an artist who 
probably knew him, and approved by them : besides, we hope 
to show by and by, from an entirely independent source, 
fairly reasonable evidence that Dugdale's portrait resembles 
one of the actor which appeared on a title-page of a work in 
1624. 

The monument in Westminster Abbey requires no exami- 
nation. The artist, perplexed by the various portraits of his 
subject, quite properly created an almost ideal effigy which 
is wholly unlike the Droeshout portrait or Stratford bust. 
The same may be said of the Roubillac bust and the Gower 
bronze statue at Stratford. 

Although enough has already been adduced to show its 
spurious character, we have again to refer. to the Droeshout 

248 • 





I 

THE DROESHOUT SHAKSPERE 

Overlaid with the face, hair, and beard of 
Passe 's Bacon 



THE DROESHOUT SHAKSPERE 

Overlaid with the nose, eyes, and temple 
of Passe's Bacon reversed 





THE DROESHOUT SHAKSPERE 

Overlaid with the face and beard of 
Worthington's Bacon 



THE DROESHOUT SHAKSPERE 

Overlaid with Passe's Bacon. Note alignment 
of eyebrows, nose, and cheek 



MYTHICAL RELICS 

portrait, the ** really authentic likeness," the one sacred icon 
in the sanctuary of the actor's biographers. 

Lawrence has called attention to the remarkable black line 
extending "from ear to chin" on this mysterious portrait, and 
the peculiarity of the coat which the artist has depicted. ^ 
That the face strongly resembles a mask all must admit. A 
clear impression from an unworn copy of the original folio 
of 1623 shows this peculiarity more plainly than in later edi- 
tions after the plate became worn. Such is the engraving here 
shown, taken from a photograph made for the writer. The 
resemblance to a mask is enhanced by turning it upside down. 
The figure, it will be observed, is much too small for the head. 
This has been observed by the biographers, the latest, Sidney 
Lee, who says, *'The dimensions of the head and face are dis- 
proportionately large as compared with those of the body." 2 
Attention is also attracted by the coat, which presents the 
back of the right arm on the left arm of the figure, which sig- 
nifies that the person represented is masquerading in a false 
coat. That this is such a garment we have the testimony of 
some of the best-known London tailors. It plainly tells its 
story. Mr. William Stone Booth, however, gives us the most 
remarkable evidence of an intention to hide an author's face 
behind one purporting to be that of another that has ever 
been attempted. Strangely enough, more than fifty years 
ago, William Henry Smith,^ a student of the "Shakespeare" 
Works, saw in the portrait of the philosopher resemblances to 
that of the actor as exhibited by Droeshout, and Mr. Booth, 
applying to them the Bertillon system of measurement, 
found them to be exact counterparts of each other. He says : — 

Even if no doubt of the actor's authorship had arisen, it would 
have been an extraordinary phenomenon that the two greatest 

^ Sir Edwin Burning Lawrence, Bart., LL.B., Bacon is Shakespeare, pp. 23 
et seq. New York, 1910. 

^ Lee, A Life of Shakespeare, p. 287. 

' William Henry Smith, Esq., Bacon and Shakespeare, p. 39. London, 
1857. 

249 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

men of letters of Elizabethan times should be found to have 
portraits anatomically identical.^ 

He then proceeds to demonstrate the accuracy of his meas- 
urements by patiently overlaying no less than twenty-seven 
sections of the two faces, and showing that they perfectly co- 
incide with the parts covered without materially affecting their 
expression. 

The same methods have been employed by Professor Hol- 
brook in his treatment of the portraits of Dante with un- 
questionable results.^ 

That the methods of measurement employed by Mr. Booth 
are scientific, any one can convince himself by studying them 
as the writer has done ; it would be better, though, to resort to 
his book, and follow his ingenious exposition of his subject. 
We reproduce by the kindness of his publisher, Mr. W. A. 
Butterfield, eight of Mr. Booth's examples: It may be ob- 
jected that faces strikingly similar are sometimes seen. This 
is quite true. The writer in his studies of portraits recalls 
several such instances, perhaps the most interesting one de- 
picted by Morton of an antique, upon which he remarks : — 

After twenty-five hundred years, so indelible is the type, every 
resident of Mobile will recognize in this Chaldean effigy the fac- 
simile portrait of one of their city's most prominent citizens.^ 

This reference is to Senator Judah P. Benjamin. But such an 
objection cannot be sustained by the actor's friends in this 
case. The subjects were at social antipodes, living at the same 
time, known to one another and to one another's friends, 
and believed by numberless partisans to be authors of the 
same works. Surely the many writers with whom they asso- 
ciated would have noted a resemblance if such existed. The 

^ William Stone Booth, The Droeshout Portrait, p. 3. Boston, 191 1. 

2 R. T. Holbrook, The Portraits of Dante from Giotto to Rafael. London, 
1911. 

^ Samuel George Morton, M.D., Types of Mankind, p. 1 16. Philadelphia, 
i860. 

250 





THE DROESHOUT SHAKSPERE 



Overlaid with theupperhalf of Passe's Bacon. 
Compare with No. 6 for line from lobe of 



THE DROESHOUT SHAKSPERE 

Overlaid with upper two thirds of Passe's 
Bacon. Compare with No. s for shadow 
of cheek bone and lobe of nose 





THE DROESHOUT SHAKSPERE 

Overlaid with the eye, cheek, and hair of 
Passe's Bacon. Note cheek line and 
shadows 



PASSE'S BACON 

Overlaid with oblique sagittal section of the face 
of Droeshout's Shakspere. Note alignment of 
eye, nose, and mouth 



MYTHICAL RELICS 

question, of course, arises why Droeshout created such an 
effigy of the actor. The only answer seems to be that the man 
who was responsible for the Folio furnished him with the ma- 
terial for this tell-tale portrait which the artist used as well as 
his meager talents permitted, and that it is a witty experiment 
in the "deficiency of knowledge" in which Bacon took so deep 
an interest. Reminded that a portrait was needed for the Folio, 
how apt the reply : Take my Simon Passe and give it to Droes- 
hout ; tell him to leave off the hat, put on it a left-hand coat, 
and mark a black line in front of the ear to show it to be a 
mask. His deficiency in his art will do the rest. It has done 
more than hide the truth ; it has shown the deficiency in criti- 
cal judgment, for many posing as critics have neither noticed 
the coat nor the mask, and have written books to prove that 
it was the only original portrait of the actor in spite of these 
revealing designs. 

We may well close this branch of our subject by quoting a 
recent German critic, — "Der Shakespeare-Dichter; Wer 
War's? und Wie sah er Aus.^"' 

THE INSCRIPTION ON THE TOMBSTONE 

The well-known inscription on the slab covering the tomb 
has also been changed, and the changes made in it are here 
given. These changes should excite our interest. 

It should be noted, to avoid suggestion of inaccuracy, 
that slight differences exist between the old copyists, perhaps 
the fault of printers, though similar instances may be called 
to mind of the difficulty experienced by experts in describing 
or delineating what they have seen and carefully studied. 
Visiting the Great Pyramid, and interesting himself in its his- 
tory, the writer was astonished at the revelation that no less 
than seven archaeologists, who had measured and described 
with painstaking particularity the plain stone coffer in its 
mysterious chamber, differed from one another in one or more 
particulars, though nothing could be plainer. 

251 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

The original inscription on the tombstone was doubtless 
copied by Dugdale in 1636,^ the year his book was written, 
though not published till twenty years later, and subsequently 
at different periods, by Steevens, Malone, and Knight. It is 
not remarkable that these copyists slightly differ, but their 
differences are such as might occur in transcribing or printing. 
In this case they are perhaps important. The following is the 
inscription as it appeared to Samuel Ireland, composed as it 
was described "of an uncouth mixture of large and small 
letters": — 

Good Frend for lefus SAKE forbeare 
To dJGG T-E Duft EncloAfed HERe 
Blefe be TE Man f fpares TEs Stones 
And curft be He f moves my Bones. 

The inscription now on the stone is quite different, and is 
as follows : — 

Good frend for Iesvs sake forbeare, 
to digg "he dvst encloased heare: 

D E T 

DLESIE BE Y MAN Y SPARES TIES STONES, 

T 
AND CVRST BE HE Y MOVES MY BONES. 

The question naturally arises. When did the change take 
place } Besides those we have named, it was printed as here 
shown by Samuel Ireland in 1795. He differs from Knight 
only in using "small and capital letters," Knight using only 
capitals, large and small, and placing a period in the middle 
and at the end of the last word in the second line; namely, 
HE.Re. As Knight would hardly have used these periods 

^ Cf. George Steevens, The Works of Shakespeare, vol. i, p. xix. London, 181 1. 
Knight, William Shakspere, A Biography, p. 542. Sir William Dugdale, Anti- 
quities oj Warwickshire, 1656. 

252 




IN 1788 




IX ks.)'. 

THE "BIRTHPLACE" 



MYTHICAL RELICS 

arbitrarily, we must conclude that they were originally in the 
word. As it is claimed that this epitaph contains a cipher, we 
shall refer to it later. ^ 

THE HOUSE AND CHAMBER IN WHICH THE STRATFORD 
ACTOR IS SAID TO HAVE BEEN BORN 

O. Halliwell-Phillipps was a born antiquary, and devoted 
his life to his favorite profession. He went to Stratford and 
remained there studying, in situ, the houses connected with 
the actor. He even procured sketches of the foundation stones 
of the house in which he lived; penetrated the dim and cob- 
webbed cellar of the so-called "birthplace" in Henley Street, 
and obtained sketches of its rude walls, determined that pos- 
terity should lose nothing connected with the man "he adored. 
He ransacked records and conveyances of property owned by 
John Shakspere, tracing minutely the various conveyances of 
portions of the property, and such changes in it as he could 
find recorded, and observes: — 

It is certain that at this late day there is no apartment in either 
the Birth-Place or Wool-Shop which presents exactly the same 
appearance under which it was viewed in the boyhood of the 
great dramatist, but, unquestionably, the nearest approach to 
the realization of such a memorial is to be found in the cellar. 

And he proceeded to procure sketches of every portion of this, 
which he reproduced in his painstaking work. Moreover, he 

says : — 

Throughout the seventeenth century, however, the grave stone 
and effigy appear to have been the only memorials of the poet 
that were indicated to visitors, and no evidence has been dis- 
covered which represents either the Birth-Place or the birth-room 
as an object of commercial exhibition until after the traditions re- 
specting them are known to have been current.^ 

^ Ignatius Donnelly, The Cipher in the Plays and on the Tombstone. Minne- 
apolis, Minn., 1899. Picturesque Views on the Upper, or Warwickshire Avon, 
p. 212. London, 1795. 

2 Phillipps, Outlines, etc., vol. i, pp. 386 et seq. The italics are ours. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

The writer is not at all in sympathy with those who have 
a penchant for historic doubts. On the contrary, he has an 
affectionate regard even for tradition, which often enshrines 
a truth, as a fragment of amber does a fly, but he can but 
conclude, and to this conclusion Phillipps almost unwittingly 
points the way, that there is no evidence whatever that the 
Stratford actor ever saw the so-called "birthroom," and that 
there can be but little doubt that the house now standing is 
wholly unlike the one which John Shakspere knew ; most cer- 
tainly it is if it underwent as great changes in the two centuries 
previous to 1769 as in the seventy years after that date, which 
the accompanying exhibits reveal to us. But conflagrations 
are to be considered, and they were frequent in Stratford, as 
they were in other English towns in the past, owing, espe- 
cially, to inflammable roofs of thatch as well as other causes. 
In support of this it seems well to quote from a record as far 
back as 161 8, but two years after the actor's death, a report of 
the Privy Council to the Corporation of Stratford with regard 
to a late "lamentable loss," which they complained had 

happened by casualty of fire which of late years hath been very 
frequently occasioned by means of thatched cottages, stacks of 
straw, and such like combustible stuff, which are suffered to be 
erected and make confusedly in most of the principal parts of the 
town without restraint.^ 

But one of the strongest proofs against this house having been 
the birthplace is furnished by Knight, who says : — 

The Parish of Stratford, then, was unquestionably the birth- 
place of William Shakspere. But in what part of Stratford dwelt 
his parents in the year 1564. ? It was ten years after this that his 
father became the purchaser of two freehold houses in Henley Street, 
— houses which still exist — houses which the people of Eng- 
land have agreed to preserve as a precious relic of their great 

^ George Chalmers, An Apology for the Believers in the Shakespeares^ Papers, 
pp. 618 et seq. London, 1797. 

It is proper to remark that some years ago, when the third house to the east 
of the wool shop, in the same row, was under repair, charred timbers were re- 
vealed, evidence of some former conflagration. 

254 



' ' ft; 



5if\m 



t 



+1 



«feS.f*^^ 



f 



IN 1847 
THE "BIRTHPLACE" 




IN 1834 



MYTHICAL RELICS 

brother. Nine years before William Shakspere was born, his fa- 
ther had also purchased two copyhold tenements in Stratford 
— one in Greenhill Street, one in Henley Street. The copyhold 
house in Henley Street purchased in 1555 was unquestionably 
not one of the freehold houses in the sam.e street purchased in 
1574. As he purchased two houses in 1555 In different parts 
of the town. It is not likely that he occupied both; he might 
not have occupied either. Before he purchased the two houses 
in Henley Street In 1574,^ he occupied fourteen acres of meadow- 
land, with appurtenances, at a very high rent; the property is 
called "Ingon" meadow in "The Close Rolls," — It Is about a 
mile and a quarter from the town of Stratford. William Shak- 
spere, then, might have been born at either of his father's copy- 
hold houses In Greenhill Street, or in Henley Street; he might have 
been born at Ingon. 

And then Knight, as usual, loses his head, yielding judgment 
to sentiment, and rhapsodizes in this manner: — 

Was William Shakspere, then, born In the house In Henley 
Street which has been purchased by the nation.^ For ourselves, 
we frankly confess that the want of absolute certainty that Shak- 
spere was there born, produces a state of mind that Is something 
higher and pleasanter than the conviction that depends upon 
positive evidence. We are content to follow the popular faith 
undoubtedly. The traditionary belief is sanctioned by long usage 
and universal acceptation. The merely curious look In reverent 
silence upon that mean room, with its massive joists and plas- 
tered walls, firm with ribs of oak, where they are told the poet 
of the human race was born. Eyes now closed on the world, but 
have left that behind that the world "will not willingly let die," 
have glistened under this humble roof, and there have been 
thoughts unutterable — solemn, confiding, grateful, humble, — 
clustering round their hearts in that hour. — Disturb not the 
belief that WiUiam Shakspere first saw the light In this venerated 
room.^ 

This is delirium, and strikingly illustrates the frenzy which 
actuates the disciples of the new Messianic cult. If proofs 
as strong as Holy Writ were produced they would fall on 

* The dates used by Knight are New Style. 

' Charles Knight, William Shakspere, A Biography, p. 31 et seq. New York, 
i860. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

deaf ears. One hundred and fifty-three years had passed when 
the Garrick Jubilee was celebrated, and it was but natural 
that a few years in the date of purchase of the Henley Street 
houses should be overlooked until Malone dug it out of the 
musty old records. This is the conclusion he reached after 
discovering the fact : — 

Consequently the precise place of our poet's birth, like that of 
Homer, must remain undecided. 

He also remarks that his father held — 

"Ingon," alias "Ington meadows," situated at a short distance 
from that estate which his son afterwards purchased. 

It is proper to remark that Phillipps, basing his opinion 
upon the burial of a John (Malone says Jeames) Shakspere 
at Ingon, September 25, 1589, infers that it was not the 
father of the actor who held this estate. These opinions are 
mentioned though of no special importance, as they do not 
militate against the fact that the "precise place" of the ac- 
tor's birth must "remain undecided." 

Of course, as between Phillipps and his predecessors, Ma- 
lone and Knight, on a question of precise accuracy in tracing 
a conveyance or tradition, we should be obliged to accept 
Phillipps ; but when we consider the grounds upon which he 
yielded to the persuasion that to doubt the locality of the 
birthroom "would be the merest foppery of scepticism," we 
are again unpleasantly reminded of the infectious atmosphere 
of Stratford. Let us examine the evidence he presents. He 
sets out as follows : — 

Upon the north side of Henley Street is a detached building, 
consisting of two houses annexed to each other, the one on the 
West having been known from time immemorial as Shakespeare's 
Birth-Place, and that on the east, a somewhat larger one which 
was purchased by his father in the year 1556. 

Why say from time immemorial when the earliest date of 
the tradition he himself says was 1759, the date of Winter's 

256 




AT PRESENT 



THE "BIRTHPLACE' 



MYTHICAL RELICS 

plan? The western house, he continues, it may be "assumed" 
was the birthplace, and the eastern, the wool shop, the " house 
purchased by him in 15 56 J' In support of this statement he 
presents a supposititious plan of the property. Let us grant 
this assumption that the eastern house was the wool shop, and 
ask when the western house, or *' Birth-Place," was purchased ? 
The reply is as follows : — 

John Shakespeare bought two houses at Stratford in this year, 
1575; but it is not known in what part of the town they were 
situated, nor whether they were or were not contiguous to each 
other — all that is certain in the matter is that neither, on any 
supposition, could have been the Wool Shop, but it is possible 
that one of them was the Birth Place. 

Here he finds himself in a dilemma, and in this helpless 
manner struggles to escape from it : — 

The true solution of a biographical question is to be found in 
a natural hypothesis which completely reconciles the tradi- 
tional and positive evidence. It is known that John Shakespeare 
became the owner of the BIrth-Place at some unascertained 
period before 1590. 

Why not say 1575 which he knew to be the date? 

And if we assume that he resided there from the time of his arrival 
at Stratford, either occupying the Wool Shop, as well as annex- 
ing the latter In 1556, all known difficulties of every kind imme- 
diately vanish. 

Of course, such a method of reasoning will settle any ques- 
tion of any nature, but calling attention to a fine of twelve- 
pence being levied on the actor's father in 1552, as "one of the 
residents of Henley Street," or Hell Lane as it was popularly 
called, he continues: — 

Then In January, 1597, we have his own authority for the fact 
that the land on the west of the Birth-Place was at that time in 
his own occupation. 

Of course it was, if he purchased it in 1575, and had not sold 
it meanwhile ; but here follows this extraordinary admission: — 

257 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

This is the only evidence of the kind that has come down to 
us, but it is hardly possible to exaggerate its importance in de- 
ciding the question now under consideration, the value of a tradi- 
tion being immeasurably enhanced by its agreement with a record 
that could not have been known to any of its narrators.^ 

He then offers "the local Tradition of the western House 
being the Birth-Place," but, evidently realizing the weakness 
of his traditional evidence, he fortifies himself by saying that 
it "is on the whole of a satisfactory character," and antici- 
pating a smile at the use of the words "on the whole," which 
so often implies doubt, he turns crossly upon doubters, and 
declares that his evidence 

effectually disposes of the attempts, some of them dishonest ones, 
to circulate the unfounded opinion that the original local tradition 
indicated neither of the houses on the present Henley Street 
estate. 

After this we have 'Uhe original local tradition" and be- 
come aware that the reason of so much fuss is the smallness 
of the egg. This is it : — 

The two buildings are, however, collectively mentioned as the 
"house where Shakespeare was born" in Winter's plan of the 
town of 1759 — and in Greene's view which was engraved in 1769. 

And this is all. The only tradition "on the whole of a satis- 
factory character," has a pedigree beginning one hundred and 
ninety-five years after the birth of the actor, and to carry it 
back, and attach it to a house of which the date of purchase 
is "assumed," and present it to us as evidence, is an insult 
to our intelligence. 

To sum up this evidence, John Shakspere, a butcher and 
wool dealer whose father lived in the adjoining parish of Snit- 
terfield, was fined twelvepence for a nuisance in Henley Street 
in 1552. There is no evidence that he was living there at that 
time; in 1555 his name was not on the roll of the Corporation,^ 

^ Phillipps, Outlines, etc., vol. 1, pp. 25, 380, 383. Cf. Letter to EIze, 1888. 
2 Ibid. vol. II, p. 215. 

258 



MYTHICAL RELICS 

but it is a fair assumption that he had a shop there. He was 
not married until 1557, but he had purchased the year before 
two houses, one on Greenhill, the other on Henley Street. 
In 1575 he purchased two other houses; location, says Phil- 
lipps, is undetermined, but "it is possible that one of them 
was the Birthplace": Knight says "unquestionably not." 
Phillipps's opinion rests wholly upon tradition, dating from 
1759, about the time when a "Birthplace" became pecuni- 
arily valuable. Any one who examines this evidence, if he 
desires to get at a fact and not bolster up a fiction, must cer- 
tainly decide that Phillipps in this case ignominiously fails. 
Like Knight he seems to have concluded " that want of abso- 
lute certainty" was "pleasanter than the conviction that de- 
pends on positive evidence." 

While the record evidence forever disposes of the birth- 
place hoax, we will venture to remark that it seems strange 
that no one has approached the subject from the simple 
vantage-ground of reason ; in other words, is it reasonable that 
John Shakspere, a rapidly rising citizen of Stratford, should 
take his bride, a rich heiress in the eyes of his humble towns- 
folk, to the close and confined quarters over the shop where he 
plied his trade, malodorous from the spoil of the shambles, 
especially from wool pelts, the effluvium of which would have 
been unendurable? Imagine John Shakspere, a prosperous 
and ambitious young man, ignorant and pushing, proudly 
standing on that autumnal day of 1557 before the altar with 
Mary Arden, a particularly good matrimonial catch, and, 
after receiving the congratulations of his friends, taking her 
to such a vile place as we have described, the old building on 
Henley Street, where he had been fined some time before for 
maintaining a nuisance by accumulating on his premises the 
filthy offal of his trade. It is unthinkable; but this is what 
Stratfordians have tried to make us believe, though a few 
months before, October 2, 1556, he had purchased a house on 
Greenhill Street "unvm tenementum cum gardino et crofto^ 

259 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

cum pertinencies/' a tenement with garden and croft with ap- 
purtenances, a most suitable place for their abode. When, 
however, the tradition was startedj according to Phillipps, in 
1759, or between that date and the Garrick Jubilee ten years 
later, owing to a demand for a birthplace for "commercial 
exhibition," the Greenhill house had disappeared, and the 
two tenements on Henley Street, purchased in 1575 by John 
Shakspere, were seized upon, and to their joy in one was 
found a chamber which was just what they wanted for a birth- 
room. But Providence, as usual, seems to have intervened, 
and the schemers made the fatal blunder of selecting the very 
house which by no possibility could have been the birthplace. 
Malone, Knight, and Phillipps knew this, but even Phillipps 
shrank from antagonizing Stratford public opinion by oppos- 
ing it, and let it pass, faithfully recording the facts, many 
enshrined in old Latin which only a spendthrift of time would 
meddle with. And Lee, too, knows the truth of the matter, 
and this is how he gracefully handles it : — 

Some doubt is justifiable as to the ordinarily accepted scene 
of his birth. Of two adjoining houses forming a detached build- 
ing on the north side of Henley Street, that to the east was pur- 
chased by John Shakespeare in 1556, but there is no evidence 
that he owned or occupied the house to the west before 1575. 
Yet this western house has been known since 1759 as the poet's 
birthplace, and a room on the first floor is claimed as that in 
which he was born. . . . Much of the Elizabethan timber and 
stonework survives,but a cellar under the " birthplace " is the only 
portion which remains as it was at the date of the poet's birth. ^ 

We cannot even indorse the overconfident statement by Lee 
that some of the "Elizabethan timber" and "stone work'* 
of the buildings used by John Shakspere in 1575 survive. It is 
much more reasonable to believe that their walls were of mud, 
and roofs of thatch, such as Phillipps says was the common type 
of Stratford houses. The buildings purchased by the authori- 
ties in 1848 had been used during a considerable period for an 

* Lee, J Life of Shakespeare, p. 9. 
260 



MYTHICAL RELICS 

inn, and it is much more probable that earlier structures had 
yielded to the changes of time, or one of the many fires from 
which the little town had suffered, than that they were the 
original houses purchased in 1575. Wheeler tells us of one of 
these fires, two years before the actor's death, which swept 
away fifty-four dwelling-houses and other buildings, and 
threatened the destruction of the town.^ 

The belated acknowledgment by Lee, forced by the trouble- 
some publication of abstracts of titles of conveyance by 
Phillipps, that the so-called "Birth-Place" is not that of the 
actor, though the fact had been known to "literary anti- 
quaries" for a long time, will surprise visitors to Stratford, 
who have not been aware of the truth. But should it continue 
to be called so? Is it right to continue harrowing the sensibili- 
ties of sentimental people who, as Knight says, "with thoughts 
unutterable stand with glistening eyes beneath this humble 
roof" ? Verily the presidency of any society which sanctions 
such a fiction for "commercial exhibition" is no sinecure. 

It is probable that had Phillipps lived to see the proofs 
adduced since his death of the unworthiness of the actor's 
authorial claims, he would have accepted them. Even with 
all his loyalty to the Stratford superstition, he did not die in 
the odor of sanctity. Obsessed by a delusion, he had wasted 
many of the best forty years of his life in the hope of wresting 
from obscure scraps of writing something to give substance to 
the phantom of his pursuit, and his years of labor had resulted 
in rescuing from decay a mass of musty records relating to the 
town, worthless to any real biographer of its mythical saint. 
Of him, he was obliged to declare that " The Corporation rec- 
ords include only twelve documents in which the great dramatist 
himself is mentioned.'" ^ We have enumerated these, and have 
seen that they reveal nothing more than that he was engaged 
in petty trade in his native town begun not long after the 

* Wheeler's History of Stratford, p. 15. 

* The Stratford Records and the Shakespeare Autotypes, p. 53. London, 1887. 

261 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

purchase of his house there. PhiUipps's researches, however, re- 
vealing that by no possibiHty could he have been born in the 
so-called "Birthplace," was a blow at Stratford's financial 
industry, and he was regarded as a meddler. The result was 
mutual recriminations, and Phillipps closed his part of it in 
1887 in a book prefaced with an apt Oriental story. In it he 
tells us that ^'the proceedings of the oligarchy in all literary mat- 
ters connected with the town have been of the most ludicrous de- 
scription," and that " Stratford-on-Avon, under the management 
of its oligarchy, instead of being, as it ought to be, the center of 
Shakespeare biographical research, has become the seat of Shake- 
spearian charlatanry." ^ This is as strong language as ours, 
and how far he might have gone in his disclosures we do not 
know, for this best of the Stratfordian devotees died a few 
months later, and the Baconian cause lost the chance of secur- 
ing a valuable convert. 

Before closing this branch of our subject, attention should 
be called to the fraudulent attempt to exploit New Place, the 
"poet's" residence. It became known that no picture of it 
had been preserved, and another Stratford "poet," as Knight 
designates Jordan, produced one and sent it to Malone, who 
replied that "Mr. Malone would be glad to have Shakespeare's 
house on the same scale as Sir Hugh Clopton's," and ap- 
proved having the Shakspere arms over the door. "And yet," 
remarks Knight, " this man was the most bitter denouncer of 
the Ireland forgeries; and shows up, as he had a just right to 
do, the imposition of 'Masterre Irelande's House' with two 
coats-of-arms beneath it." ^ 

Malone published the picture as genuine, with the arms, 
and " poet " Jordan in his pride showed Malone's correspond- 
ence to "a gentleman." Questioned upon the source of the 
picture, Jordan mentioned an old plan. At this point the 
literary antiquary came in, found the plan, discovered that 

^ The Stratford Records and the Shakespeare Autotypes, p. 53. London, 1887. 
2 Knight, William Shakspere, A Biography, p. 498. 

262 



MYTHICAL RELICS 

the house which Jordan used as the model for his picture was 
on the other side of the street from New Place, and had been 
liberally adorned with imposing gables and other attractions. 
Exposure followed and Jordan confessed his part in the fraud. 

THE SEAL RING 

This ring is said to have been found in 1810 in a field near 
Stratford Churchyard by a laborer's wife, who, before selling 
it, immersed it in a bath of aquafortis "to remove the stains 
of age." It is of gold, and bears the initials, "W. S." It was 
shown to Malone, who suggested that it might have belonged 
to Mr. William Smith, an ancient resident of Stratford, and 
he was told that a device of Smith had been seen which was a 
skull and crossbones. To this Malone, who , -grx— , 

had had a wide experience in spurious relics s^-".'^?-^---- 
of the actor, judiciously replied that it was 
unlikely that Smith had two devices, and 
that "it evidently belonged to a person in 
a very respectable class of society.'' This 

, 1 • 1 1 THE SEAL RING 

rmg, however, has no device, the letters 
being united by lines in a way quite common at the time 
the ring was found, as well as before and since. It has been 
adduced, as proof of the genuineness of this relic, that the 
words, "and seal," in the actor's will, were stricken out of 
the formula, "I have hereunto set my hand and seal,' which 
would not have been done if he had possessed one at the time ; 
ergo, it had been lost. Various other speculations have been 
advanced to connect this ring with the actor, all of which are 
ridiculously fallacious. Strangely enough, the discovery was 
made that a man by the name of William Shakespeare, a 
name, as we know, not uncommon in the vicinity, was in the 
field on the day it was found. No attempt, however, seems 
to have been made to connect him with the find. Of course 
many people entitled to the use of the initials "W. S." have 
visited Stratford annually for a long time, and it would not 

263 




THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

be strange If one lost a seal ring; but the whole story Is strik- 
ingly like tales of other "discoveries" known to be spurious, 
and is entitled to the same measure of credence. To show how 
little reliance can be placed upon such evidence, a deed of a 
house on "HenlyStrete," near the house of John Shakspere, 
dated in 1573, when the actor was seven years old, has been 
unearthed by some "literary antiquary," bearing upon it a 
seal with the same Initials, " W. S. entwined with a true lover's 
knot." Had this deed borne a date about the time of the 
actor's marriage, books would have been written not only to 
prove that the seal was his, kindly loaned to a friend on the 
occasion, but as unassailable proof that his marriage was an 
ideal one, even though some of his biographers have inexcus- 
ably painted poor Anne Hathaway as having blighted his life. 

THE FURNESS GLOVES 

Of the same character are the gloves given by John Ward 
to his brother actor, David Garrick, "On the closing day of 

May, 1769," with the statement 
that he received them when at 
Stratford in 1746 from a person, 
"William Shakespeare by name, 
— a glazier by trade." Ward, in 
a letter to Garrick, said that "the 
father of him and our Poet were 
brothers' children." It would be 
interesting to know the birth date 
of the father, who by the state- 
ment of the glazier was the actor's 

THE FURNESS GLOVES ^^^^ ^^^^j^^ ^^^ SUppOSably a COU- 

temporary. As the actor was born In 1564, a hundred and 
eighty-two years lay between that event and the date of this 
transaction. It is also noticeable that a William Shakespeare 
— not this one, for Ward said that he died about 1749 — 
turned up in the ring episode, a strange coincidence cer- 

264 




MYTHICAL RELICS 

tainly; besides, these gloves were given Garrick on the eve 
of his Stratford Jubilee, which gave a stimulus to the ingenu- 
ity of relic fabricators unexampled in the history of the art, 
causing everything in the nature of a relic for many years 
after to be discredited. 

The very association of these gloves with Garrick should 
have been sufficient to discredit them; yet Furness prized 
them so highly that once, when a gentleman ventured to slip 
his hand into one of them, he could not refrain from an expres- 
sion of horror at the profanation of so sacred a relic. Such an 
exhibition of faith in an old pair of gloves, the history of 
which begins with an enthusiastic and volatile actor who had 
nothing in the nature of proof to substantiate their origin, is 
a psychological marvel. 

To conclude, there is but one authentic relic of the Stratford 
actor in existence, namely, his will. Even the ''silver gilt 
bowl," no doubt the most cherished heirloom of the family, 
passed from sight centuries ago. If the premises in Henley 
Street were the site of John Shakspere's dwelling after pur- 
chase in 1574-75, we have shown the improbability of the 
buildings being the same. They are certainly old, and have 
massive oak timbers, as houses built long after had; but 
how old ? If built a century or more after the actor's death, 
they would appear as they now do, battered and weather- 
stained. 

But if we admit that they are these houses, does this help 
the matter.? We have seen that Phillipps was forced to ad- 
mit that "neither on any supposition could have been the 
Wool Shop," though yielding to a tradition originating 
nearly two centuries after the purchase by John Shakespeare, 
he quaUfied his assertion by saying, "it is possible that one 
of them was the Birth-Place." 

This is a surprising admission by one realizing his respon- 
sibility as an author, and was made only to avoid a vital 
blow at the most important of Stratford myths. 

265 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

All historical students agree that to establish an historical 
fact documentary evidence is requisite, though they always 
give respectful attention to well-authenticated tradition ; but 
no evidence or tradition to establish the authenticity of the 
Stratford relics exists, with the sole exception of the will, 
so potential are the agencies which Time employs to destroy 
the works of man. 

Perhaps, after all, the " Shakespeare Library" is the most 
shameless display of impertinence in this museum of fraudu- 
lent relics. True it is composed of such books as the real 
author of the dramas must have known, but they have been 
picked up at second-hand as occasion offered, and not one of 
them is associated with the Stratford actor; yet nine tenths of 
the pilgrims who visit this strange shrine look upon this puerile 
exhibit as genuine. 

How can we regard this flagrant deception but as out- 
Barnuming our great showman, aptly expressed in the graphic 
vernacular," the people like to be humbugged and there 's 
dollars in it." Verily, rideret Heraclitus. 

It is not pleasant to say, but nevertheless true, that the 
twenty-five or thirty thousand people who annually visit 
Stratford have exhibited to them relics as mythical as the 
bones of the ten thousand virgins of Cologne, and the pots in 
which the water was turned to wine at the Galilean marriage 
feast. 

THE IRELAND FORGERIES 

Let us take leave of this remarkable exhibition of deception 
and credulity by a final glance at these forgeries. 

Samuel Ireland, an engraver and author, was in 1794 living 
prosperously in London with his two daughters and son, Wil- 
liam Henry, and, being an enthusiastic devotee of the Stratford 
actor, made with his son, then seventeen years of age, a pil- 
grimage to Stratford. After the Garrick Jubilee of 1769, the 
literary world began to awaken to the strange fact that no 

266 



MYTHICAL RELICS 

relics of the actor existed. People went there expecting to see 
the manuscripts of the famous works in his own handwriting 
with the traditionary absence of blots; the family portrait, and 
other relics ; and were disappointed. It soon became impressed 
upon the minds of the covetous that here was a demand with- 
out supply. One or two interesting documents conveniently 
turned up, and gossip had it that other valuable documents 
had been carelessly destroyed, which suggested that there 
might be others which ought to be rescued from a similar 
fate. 

Ireland, like many another, made his pilgrimage a hunting 
affair, but bagged no game. The son's imagination, for he was 
a genius quite the peer of Chatterton, was impressed by what 
he saw and heard, and, to the surprise of competitors and 
the admiration of his father, he found a whole copy of " Lear," 
a fragment of "Hamlet," and some other scraps of interest. 
He was an artist of the first water, and understood the proper 
point of pause. The delighted father called in some of the 
noted experts of the day, who pronounced them priceless. Ex- 
citement ran high, and when the young man, who was in a 
law office, took his vacation, visiting a castle in the country, 
and returning with two whole plays and a variety of docu- 
ments of which he made a Christmas present to his father, 
his fame was equal to his father's pride in him. There was 
in the collection even Southampton correspondence, the gla- 
mour of which still affects biographers, and a letter from 
the actor to "Anna Hatherrewaye, with a lock of the poet's 
reddish hair fastened thereto with a strip of parchment" — 
and these lines written by her loving husband : — 

Is there Inne heavenne aught more rare 
Thanne thou sweete Nymphe of Avon fayre? 
Is there onne Earthe a Manne more trewe 
Thanne Willy Shaksperare is toe you? 

In fact, a collection could not have been better devised to 
convince even skeptics than this created by a mere youth. 

267 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

One of the plays, "Vortigerne," was put upon the stage 
April 2, 1796. So eager were people for tickets that many 
remained in line all night, and the next day, rather than 
miss its first representation. Young Ireland was behind the 
scenes, "buzzing like a bee," apparently near a nervous 
breakdown with excitement; Kemble and Mrs. Jordan had 
principal parts, and all progressed well until Kemble, con- 
vinced that he was being deceived, probably by what the lad 
said or did, repeated a line in the play, "When this solemn 
mockery is over," with such an intonation of voice that the 
audience took fire, and by one of those sudden changes of 
sentiment howled their approbation. In the uproar that fol- 
lowed, young Ireland lost his head, and the mischief was done. 
As a result of these remarkable forgeries he lost his position, 
was disowned by his father, and after a life of forty years 
subjected to want and hardship, came to his sad end. Yet 
Ireland's role is still being enacted on a stage with the mod- 
ern advantages of effective scenery, electric illumination, and 
stirring clamor of accomplished claqueurs. 



No. I, from a deed in the British 
Museum. 



No. 2, from a mortgage in the Guildhall. C^^P/i^i^V'^ 




No. 3, from the w,ll. ^ 3^ _^ ^^^_^ 

No. 4, from a deposi- ^ Z)'^^ /^ ^H^ t-/^^ 

tion in the office of the fW A-li*. ' ^J? J^-^A-*^ 

Public Records. // * ^;r:^ 



No. 5, from a ^ / j U 

volume of Mon- A / ■ / / (( 



^^^^/^/W?^ 



taigne's Essays / i '^ 

in the British /;' / / 

Museum. ; 



z:^ wv:^ m ^ /^ 6?j^^ 






/ 






Nos. 7 and 8, the two last signatures from the will which we believe 
to have been written with a guided hand. 



VII 

A CRUCIAL QUESTION 

THE SIGNATURES 

We have mentioned the strange fact that no writing of the 
actor is known to be in existence unless we accept the signa- 
tures to his will, three in number, two on a deed and mortgage, 
and one recently brought to light by Professor Wallace affixed 
to a deposition in the office of the Public Records in Lon- 
don, which has awakened a lively interest amongst students 
because his ability to write his name has been challenged. 
Perhaps we ought to say that Phillipps has suggested that the 
words, "By me," preceding the name attached to the will 
are those of the testator, and to mention a signature in a copy 
of Montaigne's "Essays" undoubtedly spurious, but accepted 
by some devotees because, perhaps, it is more presentable than 
others. 

Any one unacquainted with late sixteenth and early seven- 
teenth century script, and especially with the professional 
court hand, should avoid discussing the subject, and unless the 
present writer had had a long experience in the study of 
manuscripts of this period, he would leave the question of the 
actor's chirography undisturbed. Feeling it possible, how- 
ever, to contribute toward the elucidation of the subject he 
ventures to discuss it. 

There are four signatures of the actor which we claim to 
be valid, and but four. These are Nos. i, 2, 3, 4, as shown 
on opposite page. The documents themselves are in the 
handwriting of law clerks or scriveners. To these we add his 
spurious signatures, Nos. 5, 6, 7, and 8, the two last being 
signatures from the will which we believe to have been 
written with a guided hand. 

269 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

It is noticeable that in documents Nos. i and 2 the word 
signed" is omitted and only the word "sealed" used, a 

fact which has raised 
in some minds the har- 
rowing doubt as to the 
^ ^ % ability of the grantee 



^ w ^' 



and mortgagor to write 
his name. The fact, 
i Q^ too, that the name in 

both documents is ab- 
.r^ >t^ w»' breviated is suggestive. 






(^ (^ ($x> 8j. S^. -e? 

f > f 



J J 



Solicitors were so accus- 
tomed to have clients who 
could not sign their names 

A 1/ • to papers that they were 

• ^ constantlywriting their sig- 

natures for them, usually 
with a mark as is done now ; 
but a genuine signature, 
though abbreviated, would 
..^ pass muster. The differ- 

^ %,' ences in the signatures of 

SEPARATE LETTERS IN THE FOUR ^U ^p^^jr has maHp SOmP 

AUTHENTIC SIGNATURES ^'^^ dttOr Hdis HldUC JsOIIlC 

X, as Malone saw the preceding S. _ bcllCVe that thcy WCrC nOt 

y, as Steevens traced the S in first signature to will. '^^^^ U,^ •eUa onm*» Vionrl 

z. a suggestion of its original form. Note the last S WOtten Dy tnC Same naUQ. 

in the line, from Sadler's signature as a witness to will. T7-i7-on IV/T r C^pr\TCl\<i d 

In the third a the stroke which makes it resemble the i-^ V C n iVl T . KJCTV dlb, d. 

Itlourtr''^"''*^^''^'"''"^ ''''''"'"''' ^^"'^'''''''^' Stratfordian, makes this 

startling admission: — 
Looking at them from the point of view of character, nobody 
would say that they were from the same pen, and written within 
a short time of one another. 

Gervais, however, suggests no solution for this disparity, and 
without explanation concludes them to be genuine signatures 

270 



A CRUCIAL QUESTION 

of the actor. Mr. Lawrence informs us that the signatures to 
the deed and mortgage have been discredited by officials of 
the institutions where they are lodged. The writer, however, 
must agree with Mr. Gervais, that they are genuine, and 
can see no reason why he should pronounce them radically 
unlike. 

Let us first consider the signature (No. 5) in the volume 
of Florio's translation of Montaigne's "Essays" of 1603, and 
that in the office of the Public Records. 

The name in the "Essays" is written on one of the blank 
leaves of the volume among a number of quotations from 
Latin authors which are in a handwriting quite unlike that 
of the signature. Mr. Gervais, who has already been quoted, 
battles valorously for the genuineness of this signature, but, 
unfortunately, like everything connected with the Stratford 
actor, it is a fraud too glaring to receive credence. In the first 
place, it differs radically from the four genuine signatures, and 
has all the ear-marks of a none too ingenious forgery of a like 
character to the Ireland forgery (No. 6) ; besides, it is imposing 
too great a strain upon our credulity to ask us to believe that 
for two centuries this book could have remained in the hands 
of bookmen, — for else it had perished, — and a signature, so 
very important and valuable as this purported to be, pass 
unnoticed. Phillipps is the best authority we can quote, for 
while an ardent lover of the "Shakespeare" Works, and a 
thorough believer that the Stratford actor was their author, 
he always acts on the presumption that it is better for his 
client to have even unpleasant facts affecting him fairly 
stated by a friend, than to have them concealed to be exposed 
by an enemy. Respecting this signature he says : — 

It is unnecessary to say that many alleged autographs of 
Shakespeare have been exhibited; but forgeries of them are so 
numerous, and the continuity of design, which a fabricator can- 
not readily produce in a long document, is so easy to obtain in 
a mere signature, that the only safe course is to adopt none as 
genuine on internal evidence. 

271 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

This signature did not come to light until 1780, which was 
after the publication by Steevens of a facsimile of the actor's 
autograph. Soon after its appearance Shakspere autographs 
began to appear, often on the fly leaves of old books, one 
turning up on a copy of Bacon's "Essays" forged by the 
Stratford rhymester Jordan, who died in 1789. Whether this 
is his handiwork, it is impossible, of course, to determine, but 
that it is a forgery there should be no doubt. Phillipps sor- 
rowfully gives it up "with great reluctance, for it would be 
well to know that there exists one work, at least, which the 
great poet handled." 

Of course forgeries of the actor's name were varied to avoid 
the suspicion of being copies, and the facsimile of the forged 
signature by Ireland is no more unlike it than the two last 
so-called genuine ones to the will. 

Mr. Gerv^ais has carefully transcribed the quotations which 
appear on the blank pages of the old volume of Montaigne, 
and parallelled them with passages in the "Shakespeare" 
Works. The present writer has already done the same, for 
there can be no doubt that the author of these works was a 
close student of Montaigne. Gervais also gives a facsimile 
page from Bacon's " Promus," in order, it would almost seem, 
to intimidate partisans of Bacon from claiming that the hand- 
writing is his, for jotting down such quotations for future use 
is wonderfully suggestive of that great author. In this con- 
nection Mr. Gervais says, — 

Having . . . established a prima facie case, and shifted the 
burden of proof on to my opponents, who, I hope, will not spare 
me, I shall show, by a comparison of the various specimens of 
handwriting, that there is no reason to doubt and, in fact, every 
reason to believe, that the writings in the Montaigne came from 
the same hand that penned the five legal signatures, and, in any 
case, not from that of Bacon. ^ 

Mr. Gervais permits his enthusiasm to urge him beyond 

the pale of safety; indeed, it is surprising that with the quota- 

^ Francis P. Gervais, Shakespeare not Bacon, p. 4. London, 1901. 

272 



A CRUCIAL QUESTION 

tions on the blank leaves of the Montaigne, and a page of 
the "Promus" before him, he could so positively declare that 
they were unlike, and that the quotations were in the same 
handwriting as the Shakspere signature which they are so 



^^i"^^ 0-ryf(O OtUijfl^ Oi^rt-a. 6o **^ l Q^^ U4 



f»^rcK' 



^^^?^^»y<«; -y^f-cM Am^^ /y-p^ o*t/^ 

ALTERNATE LINES FROM BACON'S PROMUS AND MONTAIGNE'S ESSAYS. 1603. 

wholly unlike. We will dismiss this signature with the simple 
remark that its presence greatly enhanced the pecuniary value 
of the book. It sold for one hundred and thirty-five pounds, 
and is to be classed among other forgeries of a like nature. It 
is noticeable, amusingly so, that since it is more like a re- 
spectable signature than others it is being frequently used by 
partisans of the Stratford myth in their books, and a plausible 

273 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

article has been written to prove that the intrinsic value of 
the book without the signature would equal its cost, a wholly 
gratuitous assumption. 

The quotations, Mr. Gervais says, are not in Bacon's 
handwriting. Why should he have thought of Bacon in con- 
nection with the book unless they were strongly suggestive 
of him ? To show that they were not only of the same nature 
as the " Promus," but that the chirography is Bacon's, we have 
reproduced them in alternate lines. (See p. 273.) In doing 
this it should be remarked that few men write always pre- 
cisely the same. We should also remember that Bacon wrote 
two distinctly different hands; one the flowing court hand, 
the other the so-called Italian hand which looks like copper- 
plate, and which at times exerted an influence upon the 
former. His correspondence, too, at different periods of life 
shows the most marked differences, as the exhibits here given 
prove. 

Certainly this comparison will raise in every mind the 
pregnant question. Was not this volume of Montaigne 
bearing apothegms for future use, for which Gervais has 
found parallels in the "Shakespeare" Works, really the 
property of Bacon? The consensus of opinion is likely to 
be that Mr. Gervais's argument spoils the defendant's 
case. 

Let us now consider the genuine signature (No. 4), dis- 
covered by Professor Wallace, of the University of Nebraska, 
who says, with the familiar abandon of Knight, Gervais, and 
other devotees of the Stratford actor: — 

I have the honor to present Shakespeare as a man among 
men. He is here as unmythical as the face that speaks living 
language to you across the table or up out of the jostling street. 
He is as real and as human as you and I who answer with word, 
or touch, or look.^ 

^ Wallace, "New Shakespeare Discoveries," Harper^ s Magazine, March, 
1910. 

274 








^j 










'^ 







I 



li^TAJ^Z 







g 



»« 






r* 



SPECIMENS OF BACON'S HANDWRITING (^/lo^c^iwg i'ana/io«^) 



A CRUCIAL QUESTION 




FACSIMILE OF THE ACTOR'S SIGNATURE IN THE 
PUBLIC RECORDS OFFICE. LONDON 



,/L^. 



/ 







<z:>. 




FACSIMILE OF DEPOSITION OF NICHOLAS IN THE 
PUBLIC RECORDS OFFICE. LONDON 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

When we read this, in spite of the fact that we had read so 
many unintentional fictions of enthusiastic Stratfordians, how 
our blood pleasurably tingled. We were now to look upon 
an undoubted signature of this hitherto Elizabethan sphinx, 
and to see him face to face. He was no more to elude us. We 
would forget our past doubts, — yes, all of them, — for we 
want our faith back again, the faith of our childhood and 
youth and early manhood, when we looked upon the signa- 
tures to the will at Stratford-on-Avon with awe, and discussed 
the queer fads of our forefathers, who were wont to sign the 
several pages of their wills with their names all spelled differ- 
ently and in different handwriting. How eagerly, too, we 
regarded the expressionless face in the church, and the por- 
traits so unlike it in the Folio which was shown us, though 
both were familiar in volumes of the beloved dramas. Ah! 
how hard is this loss of early faiths ; but now, let Bacon go 
hang, we are to have this one, at least, restored. 

We turn eagerly to the facsimile of the signature, and, lo ! 
it is another abbreviated affair of the same nature as the 
Guildhall and Museum scrawls, and sure to be claimed by 
some as having been written by the solicitor who wrote the 
depositions; indeed we find that Sir Edwin Durning Lawrence 
has come to this conclusion, namely, that "Shackp," for 
this is the signature, is in the same handwriting as the de- 
position. This, however, is doubtful, for comparison with 
the other abbreviated signatures discloses resemblances too 
marked to be ignored. The production, however, of this sig- 
nature by Professor Wallace and the disclosure of its writer's 
place of abode, in one of the obscurest parts of London, 
among associates so unlike those with whom his speculative 
biographers have hitherto attempted to surround him, is not 
calculated to strengthen the Stratfordian cause ; in fact, a few 
more such discoveries would place it in a weaker position, if 
possible, than it now occupies. 

276 



A CRUCIAL QUESTION 

THE WILL AT DOCTORS* COMMONS, LONDON, PROBATED 
JUNE 22, 1616 

It has been claimed that the absence of the word "hand," 
from documents bearing the actor's name, was proof that he 
could not write it; but on the will the word "scale" was 
erased and "hand" written above it, which objectors do not 
seem to have noticed. This erasure and substitution are il- 
luminating, and raise the query. Did not the law clerk who 
wrote the Will, knowing the illiteracy of the testator's entire 
family, father, mother, wife and children, suppose that a 
mark instead of a signature would be used, and so wrote 
"scale" only? And is it not as fair an inference that Francis 
Collins, old and experienced lawyer that he was, knowing the 
testator as a wealthy citizen of the town, realized the impor- 
tance, not only of having his signature to the will, no matter 
how imperfect it might be, but of saving him from the shame 
of revealing his illiteracy to the world, which testators were 
loath to do, and so placed the first page of the instrument 
before him to sign, which he most imperfectly did, and then 
guided his hand to sign the other pages ? This sanctioned the 
use of the word "hand" and this view of the question clears 
it of all difficulties. Let us consider these signatures critically. 
Phillipps and others, as in the case of the Droeshout portrait, 
fall back upon them and pronounce them all genuine; in fact, 
beyond question. The first they pass by as too obscure to 
merit consideration. To the writer this signature is pregnant 
with meaning. True it is impaired by age, but studied with 
a glass it partially shows its real character. 

It will be seen that it has a faint resemblance, in spite of 
its disfigurement, to the abbreviated signatures already con- 
sidered. These signatures, namely, the two on the convey- 
ances now in the Museum and in the Guildhall, and the one in 
the Public Records Office, which are all that are worthy to be 
considered outside the will, show illiteracy too marked to be 

277 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

ignored. As far as known the actor never wrote his name in full. 
Our opinion is that he could laboriously write this form of his 
name, as we have often seen illiterate men do, but, of course, 
not twice quite alike. This runs counter to the judgment of 
some Baconians who have studied the signatures and pro- 
nounced them, without exception, written by the law clerks 
who wrote the documents ; but we desire to call attention to 
this point; namely, that the educated and skilful man may, 
and the illiterate and unskilful man — the limit of whose ac- 
complishments in chirography is a bungled attempt to escape 
the odium of being a mark-man — will always leave a spoor 
which identifies his signatures; in fact, chirographic experts 
proceed upon the theory, that certain individual character- 
istics will inevitably appear in a signature to guide them to 
conclusions, just as experts do when an unknown criminal 
leaves his thumb-mark behind. The particular thumb-marks 
in this case are in the letter ( ^ and the dot in the loop 
of the /IV^ — ^ striking- point which the forger 

would ' be almost certain to imitate. In the Museum, 

Guildhall, and Records Office signatures, the letter "S" is 
evidently made with the intention of continuing the lower 
limb up and over the top, but with the chance of hitting it 
by a clumsy attempt, which would, of course, much change 
its appearance. It will be observed that in the two signa- 
tures, which we assume were written by a guided hand, the 
letter "S" is quite unlike those we call genuine. 

The autograph on the Guildhall document has been tam- 
pered with. Steevens acknowledged that he placed the "a'* 
over the signature which has appeared in most reproductions 
since. It was the introduction of this spurious "a" which 
caused him to triumphantly declare that it was the trap which 
caught Ireland in his forgeries, he having used it in the same 
way in connection with one of his spurious productions.^ 

^ Cf. Edmond Malone, Esq., An Inquiry into the Authenticity of Certain 
Miscellaneous Papers, etc., p. 121. London, 1796. 

278 



A CRUCIAL QUESTION 

Before proceeding further let us consider the conditions 
surrounding the signing of the will. The date when it was 
drawn, probably under the direction of the solicitor, Francis 
Collins, who was not a resident of Stratford, was January 25. 
The testator was then " in perfect health and memorie," which 



/ 



^<ir^ 



FACSIMILE EXHIBIT FROM THE FIRST PAGE OF WILL 

is unquestionably true, or the solicitor would have stated that 
he was weak in body, though of sound memory. After the 
making of the will, which was left unsigned for further consid- 
eration, the actor contracted the "feavour." Just when this 
occurred we are not informed, but as March drew to a close 
he was in a critical condition, and Collins was called to have 
the will executed. There was no necessity for recopying the 
will, which had been in existence for two months, and it was 
brought forth to be signed, the date changed, the interlin- 
eations made, if they had not been made before, which is 
not improbable, and the actor, holding the pen, began on the 

279 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

lower left margin of the first sheet, and painfully scrawled his 
name in the usual abbreviated manner. The second was 
placed before him, and he laboriously began to form the letter 
"W" (please observe the V-form carefully), but bungled so 
badly that the solicitor, or scribe who accompanied him, took 
his hand, and, directing it, produced the letter in a form 
often used by scriveners, 'T/^ and reaching the final sheet, 
which required the words " By me," he continued to 

guide the blundering hand to write these words as well as 
the final signature. This accounts for the strong resemblance 
of these signatures to the handwriting of the will which has 
been observed by experts but never explained; in fact, to 
prove that the handwriting of the will and signatures are the 
same, an enthusiastic devotee at the Stratford shrine has 
written a volume, and, after assuring us that "many love 
Shakespeare and hate his detractors," who, by the way, are 
his own disciples, he declares, with the confidence of the book 
agent, that "happily it would appear that the will itself is 
his"; ^ that is, wholly written by him. It seems a pity that 
such experts as this writer. Professor Wallace and Mrs. Kint- 
zel, cannot unite their psycho-chirographic knowledge for the 
instruction of the world. 

Being so largely the work of the scribe the two last signa- 
tures show that they were dominated by him, yet, at the same 
time, reveal the uncertain touch of the actor. The "S" 
should be especially noticed, and the dot in the loop of the 
"W," which, while not unique with the actor, was a favorite 
fad mechanically learned, and not forgotten when his solici- 
tor helped him out with his last signature which he had never 
before written in full. As has been said, an illiterate man, who 
can write his name is almost sure to have some particular point 
the use of which he clings to as the essential token of his cal- 
ligraphic skill. Whoever taught the future actor to write, per- 

1 John Pyne Yeatman, F.R.H.S., Is William Shakespeare's Will Holo- 
graphic ? London. 

280 



A CRUCIAL QUESTION 

haps one of the older boys in the Grammar School, as Phil- 
lipps suggests, had a fancy for this dot in the loop, and used 
it to the admiration of his pupil. Thenceforward, this dot, 
if nothing else, must be conscientiously enshrined within the 
sheltering loop to give to his signature the orthodox character 

FACSIMILE EXHIBIT FROM THE SECOND PAGE OF WILL 

which belonged to so important an accomplishment, and if 
our view of the subject is correct, its final use under the cir- 
cumstances is somewhat pathetic. 

This view of the case explains all difficulties which have so 
puzzled the biographers, and have elicited so many theories. 
Malone, who examined the will with Steevens, says: — 

Referring to the first signature, we doubted whether if it were 
his handwriting, and I suspect he signed his name at the end 
of the Will first, and so went backwards, which will account for 
that in the first page being worse written than the rest. 

28l 





THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

And Steevens, influenced by overmastering zeal to have a 
readable signature of his paragon, gives this equally unten- 
able opinion : — 

The last two sheets are undoubtedly subscribed with Shake- 
speare's own hand. The first, indeed, has his name in the mar- 
gin, hut it differs somewhat in spelling, as well as manner, from the 
two signatures that follow. 

It is significant that Steevens doubted the authenticity of 
this signature. He examined it a century or more ago, when 
it was no doubt clearer than now, and made what purports to 
be a facsimile of it. We must, however, remember that both 
Malone and Steevens were wont to take unwarrantable liber- 
ties on occasion ; Steevens, as before remarked, having added 
an "a" to the Guildhall signature,^ and Malone having painted 
the colored bust of the actor white. Perhaps no one who has 
impartially studied Steevens's facsimile has had implicit con- 
fidence in it, though the other signatures we can see to-day 
were traced with care. Possibly some lines may have been 
prolonged and additions may have been made to fill gaps. It 
is unfortunate that we do not have this signature as plain 
as it might have been at the time it was written, yet nobody 
should doubt, who studies what we reproduce from the first 
page of the will, that it was written by the actor. We there- 
fore feel justified in regarding it as important in our view of 
the case. It will be observed that in the two reproductions 
here given, one from the photo-lithograph of the first page 
of the will made fifty years ago, and the other from Steevens 
(No. 3), the top of the "S" shows, like the three genuine 
signatures we have considered, that it was made with the flat 
of the pen slightly turned to the right, making the ending of 
the line heavier. Had Steevens carried the top of his "S" as 
far to the right as it is shown in the facsimile fragment in the 
will, it would have coalesced with the "h," unless the paper has 
shrunken since he traced it. This seems to show that he erro- 

^ Malone, An Inquiry, etc., p. 18. 
282 



A CRUCIAL QUESTION 

neously curved the letter (y), making it a rude figure "8." 
Let us substitute the fragment shown in the will, and add to 
it the remainder of Steevens's tracing. This gives us the letter 
similar to the form in which it now appears in the Guildhall 
signature, the top of which, however, has been defaced prob- 




/ 

FACSIMILE EXHIBIT FROM THE THIRD PAGE OF WILL 

ably by age. Malone's example {pc) of this letter we believe 
to be correct, and that the " S " in the first signature (z) was 
originally similar in character. 

We have thought it worth while to call the attention of the 
curious to these points, so that the character of Steevens's 
tracing may be better understood, for no one studying the 
subject can ignore it. 

Phillipps says : — 

My impression, not lightly formed, is, that the Will was origi- 
nally executed in January; — that Shakespeare on this occasion 
signed only the last sheet; that at some time between January 
and March, owing to the marriage of his daughter, Judith, and 

283 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

other circumstances, the whole of Sheet i was rewritten, and 
two lines of Sheet 2 were cancelled. Upon this hypothesis, and 
upon no other, can I account for the error in the regnal year, 
and for the remarkable diversity in the signatures. The signa- 
ture on the final Sheet I conceive to have been the ordinary au- 
tograph of the Poet when in health, the other signatures, mere 
formal attestations of the changes in the early portion of the 
Will, I conceive to have been written not long before his death. ^ 

In reply, the common custom of signing each page of a will 
may be cited, and the question may be asked, if this last sig- 
nature was the actor's "ordinary autograph when in health," 
how can we dispose of the Museum, Guildhall, and Public 
Records signatures ? Are these his "ordinary autographs when 
in health".? Other equally untenable theories have been 
propounded, and all are ingenious beggings of the question. 

Of the various theories advanced by critics, pro and con, 
it is not strange that so many adhere to the belief that the 
actor could not sign his own name, and that they are the work 
of the solicitors, or lawyer's clerks who wrote the documents. 
To this, however, the writer cannot subscribe. They were 
signed at different times and places, and are sufficiently alike 
to show that they were written by the same hand, and not by 
different law clerks. 

Among the many puzzles connected with the actor, the 
signatures are not the least, and when Wallace so positively 
announced that at last we were to have a fine autograph of 
the actor of undoubted authenticity, the disappointment was 
genuine when the "find" proved to be a very small egg pre- 
ceded by a very exaggerated cackle. Not that a passably good 
signature would add an iota to the claim of the actor's devotees 
that he was the author of the "Shakespeare" Works, but be- 
cause everybody would be glad to concede to him the ability 
to write his name, even imperfectly, which so many of the 
best thinkers now deny him. The mere possibility of such a 
denial in such a case by men of unquestioned character and 

^ H. Staunton, Memorials of Shakespeare. London. 
284 



A CRUCIAL QUESTION 

ability is certainly astounding, and hitherto unheard of in the 
world of literature. 

When the foregoing was written we had not read Mrs. 
Kintzel's article in the "Menschenkenner" ^ on the sub- 
ject, and it seems necessary to consider the theory advanced 
by this author, which, in our opinion, has been pressed alto- 
gether too far, namely, that the handwriting of a person, 
though he be ?iot known as the author,"^ expresses his character 
so fully that he can be identified by it. It is no doubt true 
that mental characteristics and physical expressions are cor- 
relative, but when one attempts to trace a psychological per- 
sonality in the field of calligraphy, he is in danger of becoming 
the sport of illusions. If a man could write a natural hand, 
certain superficial traits of character might be suggestively 
disclosed, but by the writing-master and the copy-book, 
the natural hand is greatly influenced: Mrs. Kintzel says, 
"wholly obliterated"; and here it is that the theoretical ex- 
pert in calligraphy finds his limitation. It is often amusing to 
see the curt way in which experienced judges treat such ex- 
perts when an attempt is made to apply fine-spun theories 
to cases involving identification of handwriting; in fact, jus- 
tice would not halt if the calligraphic expert was altogether 
eliminated in trials. To illustrate: Not long ago a person was 
convicted of murder almost solely on the testimony of profes- 
sional experts in calligraphy, who declared that a letter accus- 
ing an unknown person of being the guilty party was in the 
handwriting of the one charged with the crime. But for this 
letter there is little doubt that the case would have broken 
down. The result of the "expert" testimony was conviction, 
and some time afterwards the real writer confessed to its 
authorship, having written it in behalf, but without the 
knowledge of, the condemned. 

The expert follows in his exposition of a signature what 

^ Otto Wigand, Der Menschenkenner. Leipzig, Jahrg, 1909, no. 10. 
^ The italics are ours. 

28s 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

seems a fairly well-defined path. He calls attention to the up- 
stroke, the loop, its round, flat, or angular form, the uniform- 
ity or variation of a certain letter, the strength of the hair- 
line, the use of the dot ; common features in all handwritings, 
but just such features as most readily appeal to the inexpert 
juryman, and would be convincing if the judge did not now 
and then intervene with a searching question calculated to 
expose the theoretical character of the evidence. We have 
already remarked that the illiterate man affords to the expert 
agreeable opportunities, for he is prone to have one or more 
favorite forms to which he clings as a drowning man to a life- 
line. He has laboriously learned to write his name under 
the tutelage of one who has a fad which he loves to display 
ostentatiously to his admiring pupil, like dotting an "i,'* 
adding a flourish, or giving some capital letter a distinguish- 
ing quirk. An expert writer is less apt to do this, as he has 
learned, perhaps, from different masters or copy-books, a 
variety of letters which he uses almost unconsciously. 

We are led to this repetition perhaps unnecessarily prolix, 
because of the article mentioned, which is a curious exhibi- 
tion of futile theorizing on the signatures to the Stratford 
actor's will. The writer, Mrs. Thumm-Kintzel, in a German 
magazine attempts by purely speculative methods an elucida- 
tion of certain obscure matters relating to that much-discussed 
instrument. 

Had not several English Baconians applauded Mrs. Kint- 
zel's effort, though strangely enough leaving it untranslated, 
and seemingly missing its point, we should have regarded 
much of it as hardly worthy of consideration. Setting forth 
a fairly accurate story of the position of the contestants in 
the Bacon-Shakspere discussion, Mrs. Kintzel says that "a 
comparison of the characteristics of the writing of the will," 
and 

A study of the handwriting of the age of Elizabeth lead to 
the following surprising conclusions: — 

286 



A CRUCIAL QUESTION 

1. A "scribe" as writer of the will is not to be considered; 
{kommt nicht in Frage). 

2. The collected signatures, especially the "By me, William 
Shakespeare," as well as the others, as far as they are re- 
cognizable, show a clear identity with the characteristics 
of the writing in the will. 

3. The handwriting of the will is of so intellectual and artistic 
a type, that a Shakespeare may well be considered its au- 
thor: {das sehr wohl ein Shakespeare fiir sie in Frage kommt). 

To the first point it is to be said that it is characteristic of a 
scribe's writing; that it reproduces exactly, correctly, clearly, 
legibly, and uniformly the normal types, and the prescribed 
calligraphic forms of his age; that it almost wholly obliterates 
that which gives an individual stamp to the handwriting. Ex- 
amples of such handwriting between 1523 and 1680 are given 
which, it is claimed, conform to a uniform scribe type (schreiber 
Typus). 

The handwriting of the will stands in the sharpest contrast 
to all these types. It Is Incorrect, often careless, hardly legible, 
and shows a freedom, extravagance, yes, exuberance of form, 
such as a scribe would never permit himself. 

This statement any one by a comparison of manuscripts of 
this period can satisfy himself Is erroneous, for such exuberance 
of form Is common with scribes, as It Is with others. 

Farther, this will was not written at one draught, and in 
one day, but at wholly different times, and in contrary moods 
{gegensatzlichen Stimmungen) ; yes, even under bodily conditions, 
as the sharp change in the size and form of the letters proves. 

The author then goes Into the origin of the opinion that 
a lawyer's scribe wrote the will; a quite unnecessary point as 
the origin of the opinion could be of no weight in determining 
the fact. The evidence that there were interlineations and 
changes after the will was draughted appears plainly on Its 
face. There is no mystery whatever about this, and It re- 
quires no oracle to tautologlcally assure us that It was not 
"written at one draught, and In one day, but at wholly dif- 
ferent times" (in einem Zuge und an einem Tage, sondern 

287 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

zuganz verschiedenen Zeiten)^ as it must have been if not writ- 
ten in one day. 

Of Francis Collins, whom some have believed to have writ- 
ten the will, she informs us that it "shows a fundamentally 
different type, so as to exclude wholly the possibility of iden- 
tity with the handwriting of the will." 

Byrde, whom nobody for a moment supposes wrote it, is 
unnecessarily disposed of, and the origin of the notion that it 




9^ 





FACSIMILES OF THE SIGNATURE OF FRANCIS COLLINS 

was written by a scribe easily run down to a letter by the 
Reverend Joseph Greene, who made the stupid remark that 
it was "absolutely void of the least particle of that spirit 
which animated our great poet," and the disappointment of 
West, to whom he gave it, that it was not holographic. With 
respect to the signature of Collins we here produce the only 
three examples we have been able to procure, one of which is 
from the will and the other two from documents at Stratford, 
which show, what every collector and student of autographs 
is aware of, that some facile writers at times write their names 
in very different ways. It is certain, however, that Collins 
did not write the will. We shall show that it was written 
by a scribe. 

288 



A CRUCIAL QUESTION 

Of Malone's conviction that the will was written in the 
clerical hand of that age, Mrs. Kintzel says that it is 

hardly to be accepted, however, that Malone, who began his 
studies one hundred and fifty years after Shakespeare's death, 
and who certainly possessed no knowledge of graphiology, could 
be so accurately informed as to the characteristics of that age. 
With hand on heart {Hand aufs Herz) what layman would dare 
to pronounce with assurance upon a handwriting of the year 
1760 as coming from a scribe? and not one graphologist has stud- 
ied these documents because no one suspected their significance. 

We must take issue with Mrs. Kintzel in several foregoing 
particulars. We claim that it is exaggeration to say that "a 
scribe's writing reproduces exactly and uniformly the normal 
types, and the prescribed calligraphic forms of his age." The 
same differences, perhaps in not so marked a degree, exist 
in the handwriting of scribes, as exist in the handwriting of 
other facile penmen. Nor is it true that "the handwriting of 
the will stands in the sharpest contrast to these types"; that 
is, the "normal types" of the actor's age. 

The present writer has examined, in English and French 
archives, many manuscripts of the period from the middle 
of the sixteenth to the close of the eighteenth century, and 
asserts his belief that there are no defined limits of life to any 
large group of letters in existence at a certain period. Some 
individual letter-forms may not, figuratively speaking, sur- 
vive, while other associated letter-forms may continue in 
existence; hence, the use of the term "prescribed calligraphic 
forms of an age" is unwarranted. Certain so-called systems 
of penmanship may come into fashion, and influence preva- 
lent letter-forms, but not in a sufficient degree to validate the 
term quoted, and when spechnens of the writing of a period, 
say of a century, are compared, all attempts to apply hard- 
and-fast rules to define the limits of a so-called " calligraphic 
age" result in failure. We do, however, admit that the in- 
fluence of the schoolmaster and the copy-book, not wholly, 

289 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

but in large measure, "obliterates that which gives an individ- 
ual stamp to the handwriting," but for Mrs. Kintzel's theory 
this seems a dangerous admission. Of course, the layman, 
however studious, never expects to be recognized in any field 
by the professional expert who is fain to assume the purple, be 
his experience ever so limited. 
Mrs. Kintzel continues : — 

We now come to Point 2, — the identity of the signature with 
the main body of the will. Referring to the last signature we see, 
on the right, certain letters from the Shakespeare signature, "By 
me, William Shakespeare," and on the left, the identical let- 
ters from the will. The similarity of form is highly surprising 
{hochst iiherraschend). 

Not at all, for while letter-forms change there are tempo- 
rary fashions in some letters. Anticipating this reply Mrs. 
Kintzel proceeds to fortify her position : — 

One can perhaps suggest that it would not be difficult in the 
case of so small a row of letters to find parallel characteristics 
with any English handwriting of that time. Let one attempt it 
and he will be convinced of the difficulty, even of the impossibility 
of his undertaking. 

Reference is made to letters in the will as examples: — 

So any one who has a knowledge of the science of handwriting 
will agree with me when I say that it is endlessly difficult In the 
case of the handwriting of an Intellectual genius to establish 
firmly Identical forms of any one letter, since the genius {Geniali- 
tdt) of handwriting consists exactly in creating continually new 
letter-forms, and new combinations in the joining of the stroke. 
So the signatures of Shakespeare are remarkably different, and 
show always another portrait, at least, outwardly. 

Yes, the actor's signatures are "remarkably different," as 
we show by placing all the letters in them before the reader, 
instead of a few selected ones (see p. 270), and if anybody 
can discover genius in them, he must possess the vision of an 
archangel. 

290 



A CRUCIAL QUESTION 

Mrs. KIntzel continues: — 

To that come clear similarities In the complete likeness of the 
signatures (especially of the first of the final signatures) with the 
will. 

Here we see: 

1. Great distance between the words — nohle dignity {Edle 
Wiirde) . 

2. Clear concave lines — Brunetter Type. 

3. Stronge change In the direction of the letter-strokes, 
violence, excitability {Heftigkeit, Erregbarkeit). 

4. Uneven placing of letters, now too far apart, now too close 
together; lack of love of order (Ordnufigsliebe) . 

5. Horizontal position of the final strokes. A will that knows 
how to command, and endless other similar traits In hand- 
writing and character. 

Mrs. Kintzel calls attention to several specimens of hand- 
writing in the actor's time for comparison and continues : — 

The handwriting of the will holds the character, the soul of 
the artistic creative genius of a Titan, and so I have held It 
worthy to place it, as of equal birth with the artistic writing of a 
Beethoven and of a Goethe. — I must for the present renounce 
going into a discussion of the character of the handwriting, as now 
only the establishment of the identity Is Important. The next 
issue will probably describe the author of the will as to genius, 
character, temperament, yes, appearance and weakness. 

If, however, the result of a search for the writer of the will 
should establish even with irrefutable certainty that it was not 
from the hand of Shakespeare, no one can force me from the 
rock-bound conclusion that "Whoever wrote the will, he was a 
genius!" 

Had the author of this astounding bit of hyperbole given 
the ordinary attention of a student to her subject, she would 
have found that her artistic Titan was no more than an ob- 
scure scrivener who has left enough examples of his chirog- 
raphy in Stratford to prove beyond question his identity 
with the writer of the will. To settle this fact beyond cavil, 
instead of leaving the reader to depend alone upon our certi- 
fication of it, we wrote to the secretary of the " Birthplace " at 

291 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Stratford, calling his attention to certain documents there, 
and requesting him to compare them with the will, and to 
inform us if they were in the same handwriting. This is his 
reply: — 

Shakespeare's Birthplace, 

Stratford-upon-Avon, 

Jan. i8, 1915. 

Dear Sir: — 

I have made a careful comparison of the handwritings of the 
will and the draft of the tithe-conveyance of 1605, and, without 
doubt, both are written by the same hand. Furthermore both 
the actual conveyance and the bond from Huband to Shakespeare 
for the due performance of the contract in the assignment are in 
the same handwriting. After studying the signatures of Francis 
Collins, I feel convinced that these documents were not written 
by him, but that they were the work of some clerk in his employ- 
ment whose name Is at present unknown. 

I remain 

Yours very faithfully, 

Fred C. Wellstood. 
(Used by permission.) 

This should settle forever the question of who wrote the 
will. On the theory that it was written by the man who penned 
the abominable signatures which remain as evidence of his 
illiteracy, and the equally untenable one that the artificial 
Italian signature which Bacon sometimes affected was his 
natural hand, — both theories the result of inexcusable igno- 
rance of her subject, — Mrs. Kintzel has won the admiration 
of some of our all too fervid disciples of German speculative 
thought. 

After this display of Mrs. Kintzel's Icarian daring, one can 
but be reminded of Clelia's discovery of the New Messiah, 
and, especially, of the studious Stratfordian, who also pos- 
sessed "a rock-bound conclusion," and proclaimed to the 
world that he had finally settled the authorship of the plays 
by finding so many Warwickshire names in them ; but an- 
other student having produced a longer list of the same 

292 



A CRUCIAL QUESTION 

names abounding in other English shires, the rock crumbled. 
At this point Mrs. Kintzel expresses the hope which all have 
expressed : — 

That one page of MS. may be discovered that bears upon the 
high problems of the dramas; the profound reflections; the being 
and life of men and the animal world ; the circulation of the blood, 
sickness and insanity; the course of the stars, clouds, and wind; 
the influence of the moon on the sea, and upon all the thousand 
things that are brought out with such wisdom in Shakespearian 
Works. Who can find them-f* 

To this a Baconian would reply that all these subjects have 
been treated in the works of a contemporary in a manner 
which should be satisfying to an unprejudiced inquirer. 

It seems evident from Mrs. Kintzel's article, and from others 
in the same number of the "Menschenkenner," that in the 
psychology of graphiology the German has outdistanced the 
Anglo-Saxon, though we have, it is true, indulged in similar 
pleasing fictions, such as the belief that our revered Agassiz 
from a single bone could reconstruct a hitherto unknown fish ; 
but our Teutonic necromancers can, by a deft psychological 
bit of legerdemain, with a few letters of a dead man's hand- 
writing resurrect and present him to us in all his pristine 
beauty or ugliness. Shade of Judge Walton ! who loved not 
handwriting experts, what would he have said to this .? 

With respect to the challenge of Mrs. Kintzel we assert 
as positively that scores of letters of the same character can 
be found in contemporary or near contemporary documents. 
What we consider of greater importance is to prove our con- 
tention that in the two last signatures the hand of the actor 
was guided. If it were, and it was not uncommon in certain 
cases, it explains at once how these signatures have lured care- 
less observers into the fallacious theory that the will was 
written by the testator. With the two final signatures of the 
will disposed of, we have, as already said, four of the actor's 
signatures left, including the first from Steevens's tracing on 

293 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

the will, which is now almost obliterated, and three others, 
fortunately, quite legible. Again we want to call especial at- 
tention to the "S" in each of these, because of the great im- 
portance which this letter plays in the discussion of this sub- 
ject. We have reproduced them to show that the actor knew 
but one way of making the most important of all the letters 
of his name. He always began by attempting a sort of rude 
"S" similar in form to the one familiar to him in print, and 
ended by carrying the final stroke up over it, but in a bungling 
manner, a form, however, not original with him for it is often 
met with. That this was the way he made every one of these 
letters is not only shown by their form, but by the lighter and 
heavier parts of the stroke. That the formation of the letter 
ended at the top is shown by the heavier stroke. Compare 
again these two letters on the Museum and Guildhall docu- 
ments. At first sight they look so unlike that Gervais and 
others exclaim that they can hardly have been written by the 
same hand. Malone, who saw them over a century ago, gives 
us a facsimile of the one which departs most from the others. 
Doubtless if the writer had had a pen which flowed equally 
well in both cases the letters would have looked much more 
alike. 

Of course Mrs. Kintzel must have her fling at Bacon, and 
she produces his signature, the Italian one, which, if it en- 
shrines any psychological secrets, they are those of the per- 
son who taught him this beautiful but quite artificial hand. 

Specimens of this hand, written by 
1 1/ J others while it was in vogue, could be 




produced so exactly similar that even 
Mrs. Kintzel would be puzzled to see 
a difference. Evidently the lady was 
not aware of the versatility of Bacon, and that the signature 
under discussion was not his natural hand, so she babbles 
like this, in conformity with Liebig's spiteful portraiture of 
him: — 

294 



A CRUCIAL QUESTION 

We come now to the handwriting of Francis Bacon. It is in 
essence other than that of the will. The letters are of a pe- 
dantic uniformity, the pressure weak and colorless, the uncon- 
trolled traits of an impetuous temperament are lacking, and we 
miss almost entirely the curves and rhythms of poet and artist. 
It shows all the traits of vanity, self-deception, self-seeking, con- 
ceit, and self-love. We see clearly here an earnest, and for the 
Shakespeare dramas, a too earnest, witless, and humorless crea- 
tor, a busy collector of political and legal matters, but a glow of 
fancy never and nowhere. We see further a noticeable leaning to 
lack of uprightness, nobility, and untruthfulness. We see the 
smooth, courtly flatterer, and so much more which we can here 
only casually point to, and so we ask our graphiological colleagues 
to pass judgment. 

And this dreamer soberly declares her belief that by such 
futile efforts the Greatest of Literary Problems may be solved, 
and she thus concludes : — 

Perhaps with united efforts, in this way a solution of the riddle, 
which has till now been in vain, may be found. 

We have devoted, perhaps, too much space to this fanciful 
German theorist who has based a defamation of character 
upon a single signature, and that an artificial one; but in 
view of the favor with which such work has been received in 
some quarters, we hope to be justified. 

Since the foregoing was written "scare" headlines in news- 
papers and periodicals announce another "Great Discovery 
of Dr. Wallace" ; "the lively certainty of the exact site of the 
famous playhouse, the Globe Theater." Yet we are told "That 
to many the principal feature of the documents now first re- 
vealed by Dr. Wallace is the proof they give of the eminence 
of Shakespeare." "Shakespeare was by no means," says Dr. 
Wallace, "the largest shareholder in the property" under 
consideration, a fact, by the way, which has always been 
known. His "eminence," however, is proved by the fact that 
"in one document he is mentioned alone 'Willielmi Shake- 
speare et aliorum'"; and farther, "The date of the building 

295 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

of the Globe is now for the first time settled within a month 
or two." Hereafter the eminence of a man should be undoubted 
if he is fortunate enough to get " et al." attached to his name 
in a document. It is quite important, too, for the world to 
know how many inches, or even feet, to the east or north of the 
supposed site of the Globe the real site was, and the date of its 
erection "within a month or two." Of course to orthodox 
Stratfordians like Lee, Clelia, Thorpe, Mrs. Kintzel, Robert- 
son, this is proof positive that the actor wrote "Hamlet," and 
we may expect Baconians to be more hotly abused than ever. 
The fact is, we want as many true discoveries made concern- 
ing the actor as possible, and will join our Stratford friends in 
hailing them with unstinted enthusiasm. Thus far, however, 
such discoveries have materially strengthened the Baconian 
cause, as we believe all future ones will if that cause is based 
upon truth; if it is not, it will inevitably and justly fail, for 
truth is invincible and opinion a passing breath. 




FRANCIS BACON (By Passe) 



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AT TWEL\K 



AT EIGHTEEN 



VIII 

FRANCIS BACON, VISCOUNT ST. ALBANS, 
BARON VERULAM OF VERULAM 

In sketching the life and character of a man, especially if 
he has been fortunate enough to be both praised and blamed, 
one cannot be too vigilant in avoiding bias, an infection from 
which biographers rarely escape. Several biographies and 
sketches, more or less complete, of the life of Francis Bacon, 
have been written : the first by Rawley, his private chaplain ; 
then, by Boener, his physician ; Campbell, Montagu, Fowler, 
Abbott, Garnett, and notably by Spedding, who has also 
given us many of his letters. 

The best test of a man's character and worth should be 
found in the testimony of contemporaries, and of these we 
have a cloud of unimpeachable witnesses to Francis Bacon's 
transcendent genius, righteousness, and altruism, — Rawley, 
Boener, Matthew, Fuller, Aubrey, and many others, — Aubrey 
making the sweeping declaration that "All who were good and 
great loved him." Some modern writers, however, have seen 
in him nothing, and others everything, to commend. To un- 
derstand this we must recognize the fact that the human mind, 
with rare exceptions, is subconsciously or by transmission 
from some other mind that has adventured into the same 
field which it is exploring, sensitively alive to suggestion which 
is readily transformed into theory unless restrained. Such a 
mind when it undertakes to delineate a dead man's character, 
with little beside his correspondence with various people, with 
some of whom he can be familiar, while with others he must be 
reserved or evasive, complaisant or aggressive, is sure to pro- 
duce a portrait which would be unrecognizable to a contempo- 
rary. Especially is this true if his subject has figured in the 

297 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

political life of his time, no matter how righteous he may have 
been; indeed, the righteous often furnish a better target to 
the defamer than the unrighteous. A fair example of this is 
furnished by two among Bacon's biographers, one of whom, 
Dixon, ^ has grossly overpraised, and the other, an anony- 
mous but able writer, has as grossly abused, him.^ 

Two German writers have especially made Bacon the sub- 
ject of animadversion, Liebig and Diihring.^ Says Fowler of 
the former, " Baron Liebig, whose diatribe affords an example 
of literary animosity which is fortunately rare in recent times, 
condemns almost all his logical precepts as antiquated or 
worthless." ^ These writers have largely influenced German 
opinion upon the subject, and added a keener edge to German 
contempt of English thought. Yet may we not ask how far 
they have advanced in the field of metaphysical knowledge ; 
how much more have they achieved than the creation of an 
ingenious scheme of terminology; and if egoism is the fruit of 
their claim to superiority, is the world a gainer by their efforts .? 
While Bacon's system may be justly open to criticism as im- 
perfect, as all systems are, it has certainly the merit of being 
Christian. We are aware that it has been denominated Machi- 
avellian, and will quote his own words in disproof: — 

Wisdom for a man's self is, in many branches thereof, a de- 
praved thing. It is the wisdom of rats, that will be sure to leave a 
house somewhat before it falls. It is the wisdom of the fox, that 
thrusts out the badger, who digged and made room for him. 

Men that are great lovers of themselves waste the public. Di- 
vide with reason between self-love and society; and be so true to 
thyself as thou be not false to others, especially to thy king and 
country. 

^ W. Hepworth Dixon, Personal History of Lord Bacon. London, 1861. Cf. 
Story of Lord Bacon's Life, ibid., 1862. 

2 The Life and Correspondence of Francis Bacon, etc. Anon. London, 1861. Cf. 
Diihring, Kritische Geschichte, etc. 

^ Justus von Liebig. Cf. Ueber Francis Bacon von Verulam, und die Methode 
der Naturforschung. Translation in Macmillan's Magazine, July, 1883. 

* Thomas Fowler, M.A., F.S.A., Bacon, p. 133. New York, 1881. 

298 



FRANCIS BACON 

And this : — 

If a man's mind be truly inflamed with charity, it raises him 
to greater perfection than all the doctrines of morality can do; 
which is but a sophist in comparison with the other. Nay, further, 
as Xenophon truly observed, "that all other afi'ections though 
they raise the mind, yet they distort and disorder it by their ec- 
stasies and excesses, but only love at the same time exalts and 
composes it"; so all the other qualities which we admire in man, 
though they advance nature, are yet subject to excess; whereas 
charity alone admits of no excess.^ 

Happily there are Germans appreciative of English genius, 
and we will quote Gervinus, a better authority than those of 
whom we have spoken. He says, advising his countrymen to 
cultivate a more intimate knowledge of the "Shakespeare" 
Works : — 

A similar benefit would it be to our intellectual life if his famed 
contemporary. Bacon, were revived in a suitable manner, in 
order to counterbalance the idealistic philosophy of Germany. 
For both these, the poet as well as the philosopher, having looked 
deeply into the history and politics of their people, stand upon 
the level ground of reality, notwithstanding the high art of the 
one and the speculative notions of the other. . . . 

Both in philosophy and poetry everything conspired, as it 
were, throughout this prosperous period, in favour of two great 
minds, Shakespeare and Bacon; all competitors vanished from 
their side, and they could give forth laws for art and science 
which it is incumbent even upon present ages to fulfil. As the 
revived philosophy, which in the former century in Germany was 
divided among many, but in England at that time was the 
possession of a single man, so poetry also found one exclusive 
heir, compared with whom those later born could claim but 
little. 

That Shakespeare's appearance upon a soil so admirably pre- 
pared was neither marvellous nor accidental is evidenced even 
by the corresponding appearance of such a contemporary as 
Bacon. Scarcely can anything be said of Shakespeare's position 
generally with regard to mediaeval poetry which does not also 

^ James Spedding, The Works of Francis Bacon, vol. xii, p. 159. Boston, 1861. 
Cf. vol. IX, pp. 262-97. 

299 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

bear upon the position of the renovator Bacon with regard to 
mediaeval philosophy. Neither knew nor mentioned the other, 
although Bacon was almost called upon to have done so in his 
remarks upon the theatre of his day. 

As Shakespeare balanced the one-sided errors of the imagina- 
tion by reason, reality, and nature, so Bacon led philosophy away 
from the one-sided errors of reason to experience; both, with 
one stroke, renovated the two branches of science and poetry 
by this renewed bond with nature; both, disregarding all by- 
ways staked everything upon this "victory in the race between 
art and nature." Just as Bacon with his new philosophy is linked 
with the natural science of Greece and Rome, and then with the 
latter period of philosophy in western Europe, so Shakespeare's 
drama stands in relation to the comedies of Plautus, and to the 
stage of his own day.^ 

The manner in which Gervinus associates the author of the 
"Novum Organum" and the author of " Hamlet" is notice- 
able. It seems hardly credible that Englishmen should adopt 
Liebig's violent criticism of the greatest thinker of his age, 
yet several pro-German in sentiment, have accepted and ad- 
vocated his views. 2 

To two men. Bacon and Descartes, has been awarded the 
distinction of being pioneers in the inauguration of modern 
philosophy. If Bacon's philosophy is fallacious, as his detrac- 
tors claim, it devolves upon them to show by what jugglery of 
logic so many thinkers, unquestionably their peers, have been 
led to regard him as a leader in the reformation of modern 
science. Certainly the spirit of his philosophy is admirable; 
the construction of his system skilful, and the eloquence with 
which he interprets it unequalled. 

An intimate acquaintance with his biographers, and with 
his works, will alone give the reader an adequate conception of 
the genius of this remarkable Englishman, whose literary tri- 
umphs in the world of thought outshine those of Drake on the 

^ Dr. G. G. Gervinus, Shakespeare Commentaries, pp. 884, 885. London, 
1883. 

2 Sir David Brewster. Vide Life of Newton, London, 1855, for an example 
of misguided zeal. 

300 



FRANCIS BACON 

sea in augmenting the glory of Elizabeth's reign. Our present 
purpose is not to attempt an extended biography of Bacon, 
but to present to the reader a sketch of the salient features of 
his life, sufficient for a proper illustration of our subject, avoid- 
ing, if possible, exaggeration. 

We have been surfeited with laudation of the Stratford 
actor, and realize that should Bacon finally be accredited with 
the authorship of the "Shakespeare" Works, as seems likely, 
one may hardly expect a more sober treatment of him. That 
even now much unwarranted exaggeration is being used in 
praise of his genius is painfully evident. Bacon without doubt 
was the greatest genius of his time, and all the merit to which 
he is entitled should be accorded him, but it is unwise to go 
beyond reasonable bounds. The human mind from immemo- 
rial time has been busy thinking, and has had the same prob- 
lems of life to deal with that we have. One thought has been 
added to another until some scheme of philosophy, a steam 
engine, an anaesthetic, a phonograph, has been perfected, or 
nearly perfected, and the latest mind to which is due the 
finishing stroke receives the certificate of the Patent Office, 
accrediting it with originality of invention; nevertheless, the 
patentee may not be the original inventor, since, were it not 
for some one mind in a series reaching far back into the past, 
we might not possess to-day the perfected thing which has 
received the stamp of the Patent Office. 

Bacon has had the credit of being the originator of the in- 
ductive method of philosophy; but the nature of this method 
is so lucidly disclosed by Aristotle as to be unmistakable. 
Bacon, however, with a wider vision than Aristotle's, per- 
ceived how it could be fashioned into an instalment for guid- 
ing the mind through doubt and confusion to wider realms of 
knowledge ; in fact, he likened it to the mariner's compass, and, 
though he called it new, he meant that it was new in the man- 
ner in which he used it as a universal and infallible guide to 
truer thought. 

301 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

A recent writer, Kropotkln/ discussing mediaeval science 
says that "Francis Bacon, Galileo, and Copernicus were the 
direct descendants of a Roger Bacon, and a Michael Scot, as 
the steam engine was a direct product of the researches carried 
on in the Italian universities on the weight of the atmosphere, 
and of the mathematical and technical learning which charac- 
terized Nuremberg"; and that mediaeval science had done 
something more than "the actual discovery of new principles 
which we know at the present time in mechanical sciences; it 
had accustomed the explorer to observe facts and to reason 
from them. It had inductive science even though it had not 
yet fully grasped the importance and the powers of induction ; 
and it had laid the foundations of both mechanical and natural 
philosophy." 

Bacon was an apostle and ardent worker in experimental 
science, but not the "father" of it as some aver. It had been 
practiced in Europe for at least three centuries before his time. 
There was another scientist, Roger Bacon, whose study of ex- 
plosives and his anticipations in physical science prove him to 
have been a master of experimental science in his day. Think 
of this from his Opus Magnum: He is discussing explosive 
force to be applied to navigation. Is it not prophetic of the 
gas motor } 

Art can construct Instruments of navigation such that the 
largest vessels, governed by a single man, will traverse rivers and 
seas more rapidly than if they were filled with oarsmen. One may 
also make carriages which, without the aid of any animal, will 
run with remarkable swiftness. 

His studies in astronomy, optics, and chemistry, we have 
not space to discuss, though in an extended biography of 
Francis Bacon it would be interesting as showing his indebt- 
edness to Roger Bacon, Thomas Aquinas, Albertus Magnus, 
and other scientists of the Middle Ages. But none of these was 

^ Mutual Aid a Factor of Evolution, p. 215. New York, 1902. Cf. Brother 
Potamian, F.S.C., The Makers of Electricity. London, 1909. 

302 



FRANCIS BACON 

the "father" of experimental science. This is what Roger 
Bacon says of his great predecessor, Petrus Peregrinus, who 
wrote on the magnet in 1269: — 

I know of onlv one person who deserves praise for his work in 
experimental philosophy, for he does not care for the discourses 
of men and their wordy warfare, but quietly and diligently pur- 
sues the work of wisdom. Therefore, what others grope after 
blindly, as bats In the evening twilight, this man contemplates 
in all their brilliancy because he is a master of experiment. Hence, 
he knows all of natural science, whether pertaining to medicine 
and alchemy, or to matters celestial or terrestrial. He has worked 
diligently In the smelting of ores, as also in the working of min- 
erals; he Is thoroughly acquainted with all sorts of arms and Im- 
plements used In military service and In hunting, besides which 
he Is skilled In agriculture and In the measurement of lands. It is 
impossible to write a useful or correct treatise In experimental 
philosophy without mentioning this man's name. Moreover, he 
pursues knowledge for Its own sake; for If he wished to obtain 
royal favor, he could easily find sovereigns who would honor and 
enrich hlm.^ 

Experimental science, however, was not original even with 
Petrus, as could be shown if space permitted, and it were pro- 
per to tax the reader's patience further. Suffice it to say that 
it is unwise to claim too much for Francis Bacon, and though 
his genius surpassed that of his day, we are sure to be criticized 
before we finish for according him more than his due. Let us 
now glance briefly at the outlines of his career before taking 
up the consideration of his works. 

If William Shakspere of Stratford has been misrepresented 
and abused, as some aver, Francis Bacon of St. Albans has 
suffered tenfold more from misconception and slander. Both, 
too, have been extolled beyond measure by fervid admirers. 
Bacon was nearly four years the senior of the actor, having 
been born in London, January 22, 1560-61. 

The home of Sir Nicholas Bacon and his wife was a model 

^ James J. Walsh, LL.D., The Popes and Science, p. 288. New York, 
1911. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

English home of the period. Both were devoted Puritans, and 
their household was ruled in accordance with the strict princi- 
ples of that faith. The official position held by Sir Nicholas, 
that of Lord Keeper of the Great Seal, his high reputation for 
probity and learning, and the literary accomplishments of 
his wife, who was noted for her linguistic attainments, drew 
about them the best men and women of the time. It was in 
such a home, pervaded by an atmosphere well suited to their 
social, intellectual, and religious development, that Anthony 
Bacon and the subject of this sketch were reared. 

Lady Bacon was the governess to Prince Edward, the 
brother of Mary and Elizabeth, and Sir Anthony Cooke, her 
father, was his tutor, so that during her life she was associated 
intimately with the family of Henry VIII. Bacon's remark- 
able wit was recognized in an age when wit was practiced as a 
fine art. In him it was spontaneous, and from the evidence of 
contemporaries must have been phenomenal. In early youth 
he was under influences which fostered the development of 
this inherent talent. It was in the family of Henry VIII that 
John Heywood occupied the position of Court Jester. Being 
of good family, and a great wit, he was a favorite with those 
who frequented the court. With him Lady Bacon was 
associated in the King's family, and later in the service of 
Mary and Elizabeth, so that her children must have been 
familiar with his witty sayings. We shall speak of Heywood 
later. 

Of the more intimate life of Francis Bacon during his early 
youth we can say little, though we might adopt the plan of 
Knight, and associate him with the life of the metropolis, as 
well as with that of Warwickshire where Lady Bacon had 
relatives among the county families, which made him and 
Anthony familiar with that interesting county. The letters 
of Lady Bacon reveal to us that her motherly care of them 
continued as long as she was able to exercise it. Such notes as 
this accompanied little presents of game or fruit ; " I trust you, 

304 



FRANCIS BACON 

with your servants, use prayer twice in a day"; and "The 
Lord direct you both with his holy spirit." ^ 

Bacon was a precocious genius from his earliest years. At 
the age of ten Rawley tells us, "That he delivered himself 
with that gravity and maturity above his years, that Her 
Majesty would often term him 'The young Lord Keeper.'" 

It is a suggestive fact that his bust was made before he 
was twelve years of age and his portrait painted before the 
age of eighteen. Anthony Bacon, a most promising youth, 
and older than Francis, was never honored by bust or por- 
trait. 

Under the rigid tuition of Lady Bacon he was able to 
enter Trinity College, Cambridge, at the age of twelve years 
and three months, where he studied under the stern Whitgift; 
three years later he was admitted with Anthony "de societate 
Magistorum" at Gray's Inn. Rawley tells us that about this 
time he had discarded the philosophy of Aristotle, because of 
its "unfruitfulness," though he had a high regard for the in- 
tellectual ability of its author.^ At sixteen he was sent by the 
Queen to France, where, under the diplomatic tutelage of Sir 
Amias Paulet, he spent several years in the splendid but cor- 
rupt court of Henry III, having ample opportunity, of which 
he availed himself, to study the political craft of Catholic and 
Huguenot, visiting their camps, and acquainting himself with 
their leaders and their motives, all the while subject to the 
wiles of the beautiful and frail women of Henry's licentious 
court, who took delight in striving to make conquest of the 
witty and virile young Englishman, who, living in the pure 
atmosphere of Lady Paulet's English home, which she had 
transplanted into that rank soil, was, like another Adonis, 
proof against the glamour of illicit love, though it would not be 
strange, if it were true, that he lost his heart to Margaret of 

* James Spedding, The Letters and the Life of Francis Bacon, vol. i, pp. 113, 
119. London, 1861. 

^ Spedding, The Works, etc., vol. i, pp. 'iJ et seq. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Valois, the young queen of this court of beauty, for it has 
been said that no man could resist her fascinations. 

Paulet arrived at Calais, September 25, 1576, proceeding 
with his entourage directly to the French Court, and Bacon, 
then in his seventeenth year, with an intellect of abnormal 
activity, a mind stored with the learning of the age, confident 
in himself, and fearless in expressing his opinions though they 
failed to coincide with scholastic precedents, came at once into 
an atmosphere wholly novel to him except in dreams. He had 
come from a court where the vehicles of thought were cumber- 
some and unwieldy, in which the best educated and most 
polished courtiers surrounding royalty held poetry and art in 
light esteem. 

In a work which has been ascribed to Bacon we find this : — 

It is hard to find in these days of noblemen or gentlemen any 
good mathematician, or excellent musician, or notable philoso- 
pher, or else a cunning poet. I know very many notable gentle- 
men in the Court that have written commendably and suppressed 
it again, or suffered it to be published without their own names 
to it, as if it were a discredit for a gentleman to seem learned, and 
to show himself amorous of any good art. The scorn and ordi- 
nary disgrace offered unto poets in these days is cause why few 
gentlemen do delight in the art.^ 

Sidney about the same time speaks of " Idle England which 
now can scarce endure the pain of a pen," and "poetry is fallen 
to be the laughing-stock of children." ^ This may seem exag- 
gerated, but it is certainly significant of the intellectual con- 
dition of England in the sixteenth century, especially in its 
application to belles-lettres. 

In the Court of France Bacon found a life vibrant with the 
spirit imparted to it by Ronsard, chief of that tuneful fellow- 
ship, the Pleiade, whose ambition it was to rival Homer and 
Virgil, but whose seat of honor in public esteem was then be- 
ing shared by Du Bartas, then in the zenith of his fame; in 

^ George Puttenham, The Arte of English Poesie, p. 4 et seq. London, 1869. 
^ Sir Philip Sidney, Defense of Poesie, pp, no, 62, London. 

306 



FRANCIS BACON 

fact, the soul of this English youth, upon whom Rawley says, 
"there was a beam of knowledge derived from God," re- 
sponded to the music of the sonnets and hymns, and odes of 
the "Immortals" who dominated France, and inspired him to 
bear to his own countrymen that torch, which, first lighted in 
Italy, was now irradiating France. 

In Du Bartas, Baif, D'Aubigne, and others of that type, he 
found congenial spirits. Ronsard was still living, but his rival, 
Du Bellay, was no more. His works, however, survived, and it 
is a suggestive fact that in 1591 appeared the "Ruines of 
Rome" ascribed to Spenser. This was a translation of Du 
Bellay's "Antiquites de Rome," and it is said had been circu- 
lating anonymously in manuscript according to a common 
custom of the time.^ 

Bacon has shared with others the honor of being a leader in 
the literary awakening of England in the later years of the 
sixteenth, and the early years of the seventeenth centuries. 
Says Ben Jonson, "About his time were all the wits born that 
could honour a language." It is true that already some beams 
of the quickening light of the Renaissance had found their way 
across the Channel, but of late, as his life has been more 
closely studied, it is coming to be acknowledged that Bacon 
was the Ariosto who bore aloft the torch which ushered its 
fuller glories into England. It is this which we must bear in 
mind whenever we undertake to study the so-called secret of 
his life. 

It is instructive to note how closely the enthusiastic youth 
followed the rules of the Pleiade: "They are to accustom 
themselves to long and weary studies, to imitate good authors, 
not merely in Greek and Latin, but in Italian, Spanish, or any 
other tongue where they may be found"; nor did he fail to 
remember that striking phrase in the rules, "Car ces sont les 

^ We are aware of the claim, often repeated, that the translator of the Ruins 
of Rome was identical with the translator from the Antiquites, of The Theatre 
for Worldlings in 1569, but there is no evidence of this. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

ailes dont les escripts des hommes volent aux ciels^^ which later 
appeared in the drama of Henry VI, " For knowledge is the 
wing wherewith we fly to heaven." So closely did he follow 
the rules we have quoted that he was obliged to deny himself 
to friends who called upon him at Gray's Inn because of his 
close application to study. We know how he appeared at this 
time, for it was on his return from France that his portrait 
was painted by Hilliard bearing the inscription, "Sz tabula 
dignat animum mallem" ("If we could but paint his mind"), 
a sentiment which long after Ben Jonson used in his lines on 
the Droeshout portrait of the Stratford actor. Was it not 
natural for this splendid youth, who saw in progress with his 
own eyes what Saintsbury saw completed later, that "The 
whole literature of the French nation, at a time when it was 
wonderfully abundant and vigorous," was being "Ronsard- 
ised," to ask, Why should not the literature of the English 
nation be Baconized ^. Here is the secret of Bacon's life, and 
we shall see how by methods, often indirect, he accomplished 
his purpose, though insurmountable obstacles lay across his 
path. 

That he was the moving and directing spirit in that ad- 
vancement of learning in England in the sixteenth century 
which has been entitled the Renaissance, there is constantly 
accumulating evidence. It is strikingly significant that this 
movement was spanned by his life, and, unlike the Renaissance 
elsewhere in Europe, was confined to literature, his favorite 
field of activity. Neither in architecture, painting, nor sculp- 
ture did it find expression by native genius in any degree con- 
mensurate with that which it found in literature. Where is 
there a single great name to prove the contrary .? When genius 
was wanted in these arts it was imported. Each of them 
needed a Bacon of whom Garnett has said: "Even more than 
Milton's 'his soul was like a star and dwelt apart.'" ^ 

* Richard Garnett, C.B., LL.D., et al., English Literature, vol. ii, p. 7. New 
York, 191 2. 

308 



FRANCIS BACON 

It may be well here to speak of the significant fact that 
North, the pioneer translator into English of "Plutarch's 
Lives," was with Bacon when attached to Paulet's embassy 
at the Court of France, and was then about to publish his 
work. With this undertaking Bacon must have been familiar. 
It is from Plutarch that so much material was drawn for the 
"Shakespeare" Works. 

His sojourn abroad was terminated by the death of Sir 
Nicholas Bacon, whose principal estate passed to children of 
a former marriage, and Anthony who received a considerable 
inheritance. So small was the amount received by Francis that 
he was straitened for means of subsistence. Equipped as he 
was, and possessing a facile knowledge of French, Italian, and 
Spanish, one might well wonder why the all-powerful Burgh- 
ley did not avail himself of his talents, but preferred to leave 
him to his own resources, thereby, to use his own words, driv- 
ing him against the "bent of his genius" to the humdrum of 
the law for a livelihood. 

The reason for this is not far to seek. In the reign of Eliza- 
beth ambition and jealousy of a virulent type flourished with- 
out let; indeed, they seem to have been esteemed virtues by 
the mass of men. Never was the political game played for 
higher stakes, too often involving life and death. The "Great 
Burghley," Elizabeth's Bismarck, directed all the movements 
with relentless persistence. Even the Queen, wilful, fickle, re- 
vengeful, and jealous of her royal prerogatives, was guided by 
him in all her moves, and though on several occasions she at- 
tempted to act independently, she was ever brought to see that 
the wiser part was to follow the lead of a better player than 
herself. Never were the gates to political preferment more 
strongly barred. Burghley and his sickly, crafty son held the 
keys, and only those whom they favored could hope to pass ; 
thus it happened that some of the honorably ambitious and 
able young men, whom the Queen perhaps smiled upon, failed 
to obtain preferment, being for various reasons, known only 

309 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

to her and her astute minister, undesirable. Such was Francis 
Bacon, and he must have experienced painful disappointment, 
when, leaving the stimulating activities of foreign courts, 
where he had held honored place, not only among princes but 
in the regard of some of the leaders of European thought, he 
suddenly found himself hampered by the restraining influence 
of those holding political power. From what we know of this 
brilliant, enthusiastic, and aspiring youth, we can but think 
that they would regard him as one the wings of whose ambi- 
tion it would be safer to keep properly clipped. 

From his return to England until the i6th of September, 
1580, we know practically nothing of him, except from the 
"Immerito" letters to his friend, Gabriel Harvey, which we 
claim to have been attributed erroneously to Edmund Spenser. 
On that date he wrote Lady Burghley requesting her to speak 
favorably of a suit he had preferred to her husband. He also 
addressed Lord Burghley the same day on the subject. We 
should be glad to know what was the subject of this suit, 
which we learn from the letter he had verbally preferred to 
Burghley. That it was "rare and unaccustomed" and might 
appear altogether "indiscreet and unadvised," we also learn, 
as well as that his hope of attaining it rested upon Burghley's 
"grace with Her Majesty, who needeth never to call for the 
experience of the thing, when she hath so great and so good 
experience of the person which recommendeth it." Was this 
a suit for office, as some of Bacon's critics have offensively 
claimed? — though why he should not sue for employment as 
everybody else was obliged to, we fail to understand. The 
object of this suit, however, has never been explained by any 
of his biographers, though curiosity with regard to it has been 
expressed. Spedding says that "It seems to have been so far 
out of the common way as to require an apology." That it 
was for something in the nature of an experiment is implied 
by the language; if for office would it have been called 
"rare"? 

310 



FRANCIS BACON 

The next letter is dated October i8, thanking him for pre- 
senting his suit to the Queen. Spedding suggests that this suit 
may have been "for some employment as a lawyer," but this 
seems doubtful, for when he wrote this letter to Burghley, he 
was but twenty years of age. Spedding says that " From this 
time we have no further news of Francis Bacon till the 9th of 
April, 1582." This date he gets from a letter to Anthony 
Bacon in which his correspondent speaks of having seen 
Francis;^ hence he infers that during this period he was at 
Gray's Inn pursuing his legal studies. There is evidence, how- 
ever, that he was permitted to go abroad ; ^ if so, having made 
many acquaintances in the countries he had visited only a 
short time before, he would naturally associate himself with 
the men who were devoting their lives to the great object 
which was nearest his heart. The evidence that he did so 
becomes clearer as contemporary documents are studied. 

There is an undated letter to him from Sir Thomas Bodley, 
the founder of the Bodleian Library, in response to one dated 
at Orleans, "October 19th," the year unnamed, which has 
hitherto been supposed to have been written him in December, 
1577, while he was with Paulet at the French Court. In it 
Bodley advises him that he has forwarded him thirty pounds 
sterling, which he tells him is for his "present supply." It 
would seem that other remittances were intended, for he de- 
sires him to observe carefully the countries through which he 
traveled, and to learn their customs, laws, religion, commerce ; 
in fact, everything concerning them, and, he adds, if "You 
will give me any advertisement of your commodities in these 
kinds, I will make you as liberal a return from myself and 
your friends there as I shall be able." It would appear from 
this that Bacon was being supplied with funds by friends for a 
special purpose. That this letter could not have been written 
from the Court in 1577 is seen from this extract from Bodley's 

^ Birch, Memorials, etc., vol. i, p. 22. Cf. Spedding, Life and Letters. 
* Histoire Naturelle de M. Francois Bacon. Paris, 163 1. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

autobiography: "I departed out of England anno 1576, and 
continued very neare foure yeares abroad." 

There seems no good reason why friends should have been 
supplying young Francis with funds when attached to Paulet's 
embassy. Sir Nicholas, who was wealthy, greatly attached to 
him, and influential with Elizabeth, hardly would have per- 
mitted this. It seems more reasonable to suppose that this 
letter was written later, rather than in 1577. 

There is a paper once belonging to Bacon containing notes 
on the state of Europe which are just what Bodley desired 
Bacon to gather for him, and Spedding places its date in 1582. 
It seems, therefore, not unreasonable to suppose that Bacon 
was abroad between 1580 and 1582, and, if so, there can be no 
doubt that it was to advance the cause which he had under- 
taken soon after returning from his earlier journey. Was this 
cause the "rare and unaccustomed" subject of his suit to the 
Queen through Burghley? Was he so "indiscreet and unad- 
vised" as to solicit Burghley's support in a scheme for the 
advancement of learning in England, with all that such a pro- 
ject implied.? Burghley was interested in letters; so was the 
Queen, who was proud of her literary attainments, and even 
Leicester, who was then smarting from his experiences in the 
French marriage fiasco, and coquetting with the Puritans, was 
in a frame of mind which for the moment might have disposed 
him favorably to almost any diversion. All London was in a 
turmoil; the French were feared because of the insult that 
Elizabeth had given them ; in fact, England's foreign relations 
were in a parlous condition, which would have made it con- 
venient for the Queen to have a man like Bacon, conversant 
with the languages of her neighbors, in a position to take ob- 
servations of them at short range. As for him he would be en- 
abled to renew his acquaintances with old friends, and cement 
more firmly his relations with the Rosicrucian brotherhood of 
which we hope to show he was a member. Of such a jour- 
ney, however, our evidence is circumstantial, though a recent 

312 



FRANCIS BACON 

writer, adopting a diary accredited to Montaigne, has given 
an itinerary of his travels incognito in France and Italy with 
the supposed author.^ If he made this journey it adds an ad- 
ditional interest to the "Immerito" letters of which we shall 
speak later. 

If Bacon was abroad at any time between 1580 and 1582, he 
was at home on June 27th of the latter year, for upon that 
date he was made an Utter Barrister at Gray's Inn. The in- 
timate relations existing between him and the Queen are dis- 
closed by a letter of advice written to her two years later. 
That the imperious Elizabeth should have received it gra- 
ciously is evidence of her high regard for his talents. In ac- 
cordance with her habit of applying nicknames to those about 
her she called Bacon her "watch-candle." 

At twenty-four he was in Parliament. Seven years had 
passed since he returned from the French Court, and we know 
little of him during this period. That this indefatigable 
worker, who counted the moments of life as precious, was not 
idle we may be sure, and, as the love of letters was ever a pas- 
sion with him, we may not doubt that he found solace, as well 
as pecuniary profit which he sorely needed, in literary pur- 
suits. That he was disappointed in not receiving recognition 
from the Queen cannot be doubted. He had been reared with 
the expectation of filling high places in public life, of which he 
had had a taste during his residence abroad with Paulet, who 
had written the Queen unstinted praises of his merits, telling 
her that he was "of great hope, endued with many good and 
singular parts," who, "if God gave him life, would prove a 
very able and sufficient subject to do her Highness good and 
acceptable service." This was certainly high praise from the 
prudent ambassador, and should have had effect; but it fell 
upon irresponsive ears. He had seen tricky and malicious men 
like Cecil, or coarse and vulgar ones like his rival. Coke, both 

^ Bacon in France and Italy, Baconiana, vol. ix, pp. 50, 177. Cf. Preface, 
Histoire Naturelle, etc. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

his life-long enemies, advanced to important positions, who, 
forgetting public duty, prostituted them to ignoble ends, and 
he could but have felt the injustice done him. Yet from the 
point of view of Burghley, Leicester, and Cecil, that grim 
triumvirate behind the throne, they must have had reason to 
distrust him. They had seen him in youth a student, dreamer, 
poet, and philosopher in embryo, which betokened in maturity 
a man of ideas, of independent thought, who might not always 
conform to the political order in which they, secure in the 
luxury of power, wanted no suggestion of change. This he 
understood, and if in later life he wrote an appreciation of 
Burghley in which he recognized his statesmanship, so con- 
spicuous to all, and commended him for advancing many who 
showed ability in maintaining the government to which he 
himself was loyal, and which Burghley so adorned, it is not 
strange ; he was great enough for that, and also for extolling 
the Queen, who, though destructive of popular liberty, was 
successful in political power. 

It was the attitude of those in power that justifies Anthony 
Bacon's sarcastic criticism of the closing days of this reign: — 

Cog, lie, flatter and face 
Four ways in Court to win you grace; 
If you be thrall to none of these. 
Away, good Piers! Home, John Cheese! 

The writer is aware that the view here advanced of the 
Queen and those who guided her is not in accord with some 
authors, and that instances can be cited to show that Burgh- 
ley, and even Cecil, extended a friendly hand to him on occa- 
sions, for it was, and still is, a political maxim, that it is wiser 
to toss a scrap of meat to a barking dog than to kick him. 

That Burghley was on friendly and familiar relations with 
Bacon, admired his brilliant talents, and even possessed his 
respect and admiration, seems evident; yet it is equally ap- 
parent that he was instrumental in barring his way to pre- 
ferment. These seeming contradictions lead to conflicting 

314 



FRANCIS BACON 

opinions. Burghley's attitude, and others about Elizabeth 
whose opinions she shared, may most readily be accounted for 
by reflecting upon Bacon's own attitude toward the repressive 
and unjust policies which they fostered. He was a Progressive 
in an age of hide-bound Conservatism, and favored views 
which though moderate were more startling to Burghley and 
his colleagues than the most radical theories of to-day are to 
the "stand-patter" and pick-thanks of" predatory interests." 
They could but distrust him, and though they might maintain 
those amicable relations not uncommon among politicians of 
widely different views, they were bound to limit his opportuni- 
ties for mischief; besides, he must have been suspected of be- 
ing an anonymous writer of a type of literature distasteful to 
staid pragmatists and complacent courtiers. He himself de- 
nominates his assumed disguise a "despised weed," using the 
word in its then common acceptation of garb or vestment. 
But even if he had not been radical, or a writer of masques and 
other trashy literature, — for he had not then gone afield in 
philosophy, — he possessed traits of character which did not 
commend him to the exalted positions to which he aspired. 
Were not all these sufficient to account for the attitude of 
those in power.? It would seem, however, from a letter to 
Burghley in 1591, that Burghley had aided him in some de- 
gree, for we find him addressing him as "the second founder of 
my poor estate." In it he says, "I have vast contemplative 
ends, and moderate civil ends ; for I have taken all knowledge 
to be my province"; and "philanthropia is so far fixed in my 
mind that it cannot be removed." He playfully threatens that 
"if your Lordship will not carry me on," I will "become some 
sorry bookmaker." This is remarkable language to a man like 
Burghley, unless there was some common interest between 
them, and knowing now what we know of Bacon's literary 
activities, it is presumable that Burghley had some interest in 
them. Authors found difficulty in getting their books pub- 
lished, and relied upon the liberality of those to whom they 

315 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

were dedicated. Many books circulated in manuscript, some 
of which, finding a patron, finally reached the printing-press. 
Thiswas the case with the "Shakespeare" Sonnets. "The Arte 
of English Poesie," which was published by VantroUier in 
1589, now attributed to Bacon, was dedicated to Burghley, 
who, if he followed the usual custom, contributed to the cost of 
publishing. This would make the meaning of the letter more 
apparent; make it, indeed, quite clear if his suit had been for 
royal countenance, perhaps assistance, in some literary un- 
dertakino;. There can be but little doubt that the Queen and 
Burghley knew of part of Bacon's literary work. He would 
keep, of course, his work for the theaters from them, though, 
at times, they might have had their suspicions aroused; in 
fact, there is evidence of this as we shall see. 

Having reached the House of Commons, Bacon no doubt 
expected to find his way to higher position. He believed in 
the right of the Commons, and this cause he espoused, thereby 
justifying the course of those in power toward him. How 
Burghley and Cecil must have chafed when they heard this 
eloquent speaker oppose legislation which they proposed ; ad- 
vert to corruptions in the State, advocate free Parliaments, 
and many other things commonplace enough now, but shock- 
ing to the conservatism of his age. This was bad enough, but 
when he went so far as to declare publicly in the House to 
the Queen's counsel, sergeants, and barristers, that laws were 
made to guard the rights of the Commons, and not to feed the 
lawyers, and should be made so as to be read and understood 
by all, that they should be reformed by curtailment and vital- 
ized by equity, he brought a storm upon his head. A few days 
later he was censured by Burghley and Puckering. 

But he was not to be intimidated, and when Burghley pro- 
posed an extraordinary tax to be levied annually for three 
years, and, supported by the peers, demanded concurrent ac- 
tion of the Commons, Bacon alone demurred, though Coke 
had been instructed by Burleigh, in the name of the Queen, to 

316 



FRANCIS BACON 

quell all opposition. What! oppose a tax! They stared at one 
another in dismay ! Yet money must be raised for the public 
needs. Bacon calmly called the attention of the House to the 
fact that the Peers had transcended their powers ; that to give 
was the prerogative of the Commons, to dictate the amount 
was not within the province of the Lords, and advised against 
conference upon the bill they had framed. He presented a 
carefully written answer to the Lords which, after reference 
to a committee who could not agree, and violent debates in 
the Commons, was adopted in spite of all the efforts of Burgh- 
ley. Threatened with the consequences, he maintained the 
legality of his position, and the result was a reduction of the 
tax. 

We must not suppose by his action as a legislator that 
Bacon was a radical in the modern acceptation of the term. 
He fully believed in the divine right of the monarch to rule, 
and could never have questioned the royal prerogative. If we 
keep this in mind we shall better understand the conservative 
attitude which he observed on all questions relating to govern- 
ment. His espousal of the popular cause touched only legisla- 
tion which ran counter to principles of law. 

Bacon's service in the House of Commons, to which he was 
returned by different constituencies for several sessions, cov- 
ered those stirring times when the great seamen of England 
were making their discoveries in the New World; the war 
which ended the sea power of Spain by the destruction of her 
"invincible Armada"; the agitation over the Queen of Scots, 
and other matters of the greatest importance to his country. 
In this service he won distinction as an orator and statesman, 
but lost all hope of advancement by the Crown, 

Myths are known to every student who enters the shadowy 
precincts of history as having charmed lives. Though laid for 
a time they are sure to reappear to vex the unwary, and, as 
Bacon was a man so great and many-sided, we shall meet 
with them in pursuing his life story, especially where it be- 

317 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

comes involved in the mazes of the Essex Rebellion and the 
unfortunate chancellorship. 

Just when Francis Bacon became intimate with Essex is 
conjectural. In 1586 he became a bencher at Gray's Inn, 
which gave him the right to practice before the courts at 
Westminster, and probably before this, though some writers fix 
the date several years later, he became a friend of Essex, who, 
as early as 1585, was General-of-the-Horse under Leicester, 
and soon after became conspicuous at the Court. The friend- 
ship between the two was close, and for several years before 
the fall of the brave and brilliant Essex, he and Anthony 
Bacon were closely attached to his interests. The latter had 
been for many years in the foreign diplomatic service; in Paris 
in 1580, and later in Geneva, Bordeaux, Montauban, and else- 
where until 1589-90. He was therefore well fitted to conduct 
the political affairs of the ambitious young nobleman. With 
Francis he carried on a Scriptorium, or Literary Bureau, in 
which a number of copyists and translators found employ- 
ment, among them, at different times, being John Davies, Ben 
Jonson, Hobbes, Thomas Bushell, Peter Boener, probably 
Peele, Marlowe, and other "good pens," as Francis was wont 
to designate them. 

The true story of Essex has not yet been related, but we shall 
attempt to tell it later. Bacon was not a party to his schemes, 
and did what he could to dissuade him from his dangerous 
course, which caused a coolness between them. In his anger 
Essex ungenerously charged him with having written letters in 
his name to help him with the Queen, to which he replied that 
"he had spent more, however, to make him a great servant to 
her Majesty than ever he deserved, for anything contained in 
these letters, they would not blush in the clearest light." 

When the unfortunate Earl was finally arrested and put on 
his trial, the Queen craftily compelled Bacon to act as coun- 
sel for the Crown, greatly to his distaste; in fact, he wrote 
her that, " If she would be pleased to spare me, in my Lord of 

318 



FRANCIS BACON 

Essex cause, out of a consideration she took of my obliga- 
tion towards him, I should reckon it for one of her greatest 
favors." ^ 

It was a trying position for him, for the treason with which 
Essex was charged was a matter of public knowledge. His 
management of the case is above reproach when studied in 
connection with the law and evidence. Campbell, whose preju- 
dice, or carelessness, is too often apparent, perhaps unwit- 
tingly misrepresents him. He says: — 

To deprive him of all chance of acquittal or of mercy . . . 
Bacon most artfully and inhumanly compared him to the Duke 
de Guise. . . . The Queen wished a pamphlet to be written to 
prove that Essex was properly put to death ... as in the case 
of the Queen of Scots she was suffering from a too late repentance 
. . . and she selected Francis Bacon to write It. He without 
hesitation undertook the task, pleased "that her majesty had 
taken a liking of his pen," and with his usual Industry and ability, 
soon produced "A Declaration of the Practices and Treasons of 
Robert, late Earl of Essex." No honourable man would purchase 
Bacon's subsequent elevation at the price of being the author 
of this publication. . . . The base ingratitude and the slavish 
meanness manifested by Bacon on this occasion, called forth the 
general Indignation of his contemporaries. . . . For some time 
after Essex's execution. Bacon was looked upon with great aver- 
sion.^ 

It seems impossible that Campbell could have known that 
the Queen altered this "Declaration" to suit her own views 
and those of her advisers, and that we do not know what 
portions were Bacon's. Campbell's assertion, too, that "the 
multitude loudly condemned him," is quite contrary to the 
facts. The Essex Rebellion can hardly be said to have been 
popular though he himself was. This must be acknowledged ; 
in fact, one of the controlling motives of the rash and unfortu- 
nate young Earl in inciting the rebellion seems to have been 

^ Spedding, Evenings with a Reviewer, vol. i, p. I So. London, i88l. 
2 John Campbell, LL.D., F.R.S.A., Lives of the Lords Chancellors and Keepers 
of the Great Seal oj England, pp. 39-43. London, 1857. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

to increase his popularity as well as defeat his enemies. Camp- 
bell's statement is further disproved by the fact that Bacon 
was given the honor of a second return to the House of Com- 
mons shortly after the death of the Queen's former favorite, 
which hardly would have been done had he been unpopular. 
Of course the partisans of Essex condemned him as they did 
Sir Ferdinando Gorges and some of his other friends who 
could not support him in his rash undertaking; indeed, the 
"Defense of Gorges" to the same charge of ingratitude to 
Essex which Campbell makes against Bacon has many points 
in common.^ The slavish meanness with which Campbell 
charges him has been repeated many times. Says Fowler, his 
biographer, "He was generous, open-hearted, affectionate, 
peculiarly sensitive to kindness, and equally forgetful of in- 
juries";^ and Spedding, "All that he is charged with is for 
appearing as counsel for the prosecution. In ordinary proceed- 
ings in Courts of Justice, appearing as counsel is not consid- 
ered as fatal to the character of Attorney-General." ^ 

Pages could be filled with testimony to the same effect ; in 
fact, a careful reading of Campbell's "Life" fails to sustain 
the charge of meanness. Tobie Matthew, who knew Bacon 
intimately, wrote a letter to the Grand Duke of Tuscany in 
1618 describing him. After extolling his great intellectual 
ability, he says : — 

He possesses also those qualities which are rather of the heart, 
the will and the moral virtue; being a man most sweet in his con- 
versation and ways, grave in his judgments, invariable in his 
fortunes, splendid in his expenses, a friend unalterable to his 
friends, an enemy to no man, a most hearty and indefatigable 
servant to the king, and a most earnest lover of the public, hav- 
ing all the thoughts of that large heart of his set upon adorning 
the age in which he lives, and benefitting as far as possible the 
whole human race. And I can truly say, having had the honor to 

^ James Phlnney Baxter, Sir Ferdinando Gorges and His Province oj Maine. 
Boston, 1890. 

2 Thomas Fowler, M.A., F.S.A., Bacon, p. 28. New York. 
^ Spedding, Evenings with a Reviewer, vol. 11, pp. 64, 65. 

320 



FRANCIS BACON 

know him for many years, as well when he was in his lesser for- 
tunes as now that he stands at the top and In the full flower of 
his greatness, that I never yet saw any trace in him of a vindic- 
tive spirit whatever injury were done him, nor never heard him 
utter a word to any man's disadvantage which seemed to proceed 
from personal feeling against the man, but only (and that too 
very seldom) from judgment made of him in cold blood — if he 
were of an inferior condition I could not honor him the less, and 
if he were mine enemy I should not the less love and endeavour 
to serve him.^ 

After the accession of James he wrote Cecil : — 

My ambitions now I shall only put upon my pen, whereby I 
shall be able to maintain memory and merit of the time succeed- 
ing. ^ 

Says Gardiner, concerning State papers drawn up by him 
in 1613 for the King: — 

To carry out this programme would have been to avert the evils 
of the next half century. ... It was Bacon's fate through life to 
give good advice only to be rejected. 

The failure of Parliament to adopt Bacon's recommenda- 
tions prompts Gardiner to declare that, 

Had the management of Parliament rested with Bacon, it 
might not have been necessary to dissolve it shortly afterwards. 
... If James had been other than he was, the name of Bacon 
might have come down to us as great in politics as it is in sci- 
ence. The defects in his character would hardly have been 
known; they would have been lost in the greatness of his 
achievements.^ 

Its sittings were suspended for seven years, and when it 
met it was to hurl Bacon from office. While Elizabeth had be- 
stowed upon him some emoluments, she did not, as already 
said, advance him to the position which his character and 

* A Collection of Letters made by Sr. Tobie Matthew, Kt., 1660. Cf. Life of Sir 
Tobie Matthew. London, 1907. 

^ Spedding, Life atid Letters. 

^ Samuel Rawson Gardiner, History of England, etc., 1603-1616, vol. I, 
p. 181. London, 1863. 

321 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

talents merited. Essex urged her to make him her solicitor, 
but she refused. This refusal may have been due, however, 
to Essex himself, whose manner of asking royal favors was 
sometimes offensive. 

In 1606, Bacon was married to Alice Burnham. The next 
year his commanding talents were so fully appreciated by the 
King that he was made Solicitor-General of the Crown, and, 
subsequently, Attorney-General and Privy Councillor, be- 
sides being Chancellor of the Duchy of Cornwall. In 161 7 he 
achieved his highest dignity, the position of Lo?d Chancellor 
and Keeper of the Great Seal, and at the same time was made 
Baron Verulam of Verulam with the title of Lord Verulam. 
For this position it has been understood that he was indebted 
to Buckingham, that corrupt idol of a fickle king, upon whom 
no man could rely when self-interest had his ear. This indebt- 
edness to Buckingham, however, may have been merely a po- 
litical fiction fostered by the King to augment the prestige of 
his favorite, although it is not impossible that Buckingham 
thought that he might be helpful to his interest. In a short 
time, it is said, the Chancellor was in disfavor for reproving 
Secretary Winwood, an intimate of Buckingham, for cruelty 
to his dog, but principally for opposing the marriage of Buck- 
ingham's brother with the daughter of Coke. Though the 
rent in their flimsy friendship was patched up, Bacon, from 
the many changes he had witnessed, must have felt none too 
secure in his place. 

For some time there had been a growing discontent against 
monopolies which culminated in 162 1 in a popular clamor for 
a reform of abusps. A Bill of Grievances was drawn up and 
presented to Parliament. Among those who were enjoying op- 
pressive monopolies were Buckingham, his relatives and de- 
pendants. The timid King and his favorite were alarmed, and 
every effort was made to shift the responsibility; not that the 
King, who was the chief sinner, was accused of wrong; this 
would have been treason; but any harm to "Steenie" would 

322 



FRANCIS BACON 

have grieved him sore. Attempts were made to place the 
blame upon the referees, and those accountable for the form 
and substance of the King's patents. Bacon was one of the 
referees, who, seeing that he was in danger, appealed to Buck- 
ingham, complaining that "Job himself, or whoever was the 
justest judge, by such hunting for matters against him, may 
for a time seem foul, specially in a time when greatness is the 
mark, and accusation is the game." The proceedings of Par- 
liament are interesting. The conspirators realized that the 
more interests involved, and the stronger the influences 
aroused, the better it would be for them. Even Sir Ferdinando 
Gorges was haled before Parliament and forced to defend his 
New England patent.^ So the comedy went on, and Bucking- 
ham became only an amused spectator. Not so the Lord 
Chancellor. His office was wanted for one of Buckingham's 
friends. His bitter enemy. Coke, had been disgraced, and was 
plotting night and day to secure his downfall; besides, he had 
Lady Buckingham and other relatives of the King's favorite 
against him. Coke was considered especially dangerous, as 
Bacon knew how easily charges of malfeasance could be 
brought against one in his position. Offices were bought and 
sold, and Bacon's office, which had a large money value, was 
needed by Buckingham whose extravagance ever gave edge to 
his avidity for gold. The result was that charges of accepting 
bribes were preferred against him. 

Any one who to-day reads Campbell's account of his fall 
will find it almost impossible to believe Bacon when he de- 
clares that 

For the briberies and gifts wherewith I am charged, when the 
book of hearts shall be opened, I hope I shall not be found to have 
the' troubled fountain of a corrupt heart In a depraved habit of 
taking rewards to pervert justice; howsoever I may be frail, and 
partake of the abuses of the times. ^ 

^ Sir Ferdinando Gorges, etc., vol. i, p. 50. 

* Lives of the Lord Chancellors, etc., vol. in, p. 107. London, 1857. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

His confession is calculated to give emphasis to one's doubt 
of the truth of this declaration. To reconcile it with Camp- 
bell's and Macaulay's statements it is necessary to consider 
the custom of the time as well as Bacon's character. The 
office of Lord Chancellor was a lucrative one, being estimated 
by Bacon's successor, Egerton, as worth annually from ten to 
fifteen thousand pounds, while the salary paid by the Crown 
was but enough, theoretically, to supply the incumbent with 
his official robes. To maintain the dignity of the office was very 
costly; hence the incumbent relied upon fees to pay for his liv- 
ing, his state dinners, and the costly entertainments which he 
was bound to provide. Bacon had argued for reform of this 
ancient custom, but it still prevailed when he assumed office. 
People having business with offices maintained by the fee 
system were expected to bestow gifts upon their incumbents 
somewhat in proportion to the importance of their business. 
It was the custom, too, for the most important offices of the 
realm to be bought and sold, and it should be understood that 
Lord Chancellors, Chief Justices, Lord Treasurers, Judges, 
Bishops and other Church functionaries, received fees, really 
gifts from those having business with their offices. 

Campbell says of Chief Justice Popham: — 

He left behind him the greatest estate that ever had been 
amassed by any lawyer — some said he earned as much as 
10,000 pounds a year, but as it was not supposed to be all hon- 
estly come by, there was a prophecy that it would not prosper, 
and that "What was got over the Devil's back would be spent 
under his belly." 

And of Coke : — 

The salary of Attorney-General was only £81, 6s, 6d, but his 
official emoluments amounted to £7000 a year. . . . When the 
utter barrister Is advanced "ad gradum servlentis ad legem," he 
gives, as the reporters of all the courts never omit to record, a 
ring. . . . These rings are presented to persons high in station 
(that for the Sovereign Is received by the hands of the Lord 
Chancellor) and to all the dignitaries of the law, by a barrister 

324 



FRANCIS BACON 

whom the Sergeant selects for that honorable service, and who is 
called his "Pony."i 

Dr. Heylin says of the University of Orleans : — 

In the bestowing of their degrees here they are very liberal 
and deny no man who is able to pay his fees. Legem ponere is 
with them more powerful than legem dicere; and he that has but 
his gold ready, shall have a sooner dispatch than the best scholar 
upon the ticket.^ 

From this it will be seen that the pernicious custom of 
making gifts to officials in high positions, as well as for schol- 
arships in universities, was customary. 

With respect to Bacon, the vital question is, did he receive 
gifts to purchase decisions in favor of the giver ? He himself 
says : — 

There be three degrees or cases, as I conceive, of gifts or re- 
wards given to a judge. The first is, of bargain, contract, or 
promise of reward, pendente lite. The second is, a neglect in the 
judge to inform himself whether the cause be fully at an end or 
no, what time he receives the gift, but takes it upon the credit of 
the party that all is done, or otherwise omits to inquire. And the 
third is, when it is received, sine fraude, after the cause is ended. 

For the first, "The only one implying moral guilt," I take my- 
self to be as innocent as any babe born on St. Innocent's day, in 
my heart. For the second, I doubt in some particulars I may be 
faulty; and for the last, I conceive it to be no fault. 

Campbell does not show that Bacon received gifts to pur- 
chase his decisions, the substance of Bacon's first degree, and 
the only one really criminal according to the custom of the 
time. He contents himself with quoting Bacon's condemna- 
tory remarks of himself, and his faith in the " House of Com- 
mons who prosecuted ; the House of Lords who tried him, and 
the public who ratified the sentence.'^ 

It hardly can be conceived that Campbell was not ac- 
quainted with the history of the last years of James, of the 

^ Lives of the Chief Justices, etc., vol. i, pp. 271, 314-15. London, 1874. 
^ Peter Heylin, Voyage of France, p. 292; quoted by Campbell. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

mad doings of the corrupt crew headed by Buckingham who 
pulled down officials, and sold their offices to enable them to 
live in luxurious corruption ; yet he adds as an additional con- 
firmation of his faith in the members of Parliament, many of 
whom were putty in the hands of the Cabal, " But it is absurd 
to suppose that James and Buckingham would not cordially 
have supported him if he could have been successfully de- 
fended." 

We shall better understand Bacon's state of mind with re- 
gard to himself if we read what Campbell himself gives us : he 
says : — 

He certainly received a most pious education; and if his early 
religious impressions were for a time weakened or effaced by his 
intercourse with French philosophers, or his own first rash exam- 
inations of the reasons of his belief, I am fully convinced that 
they were restored and deepened by subsequent study and re- 
flection. I rely not merely on his "Confession of Faith," or the 
other direct declarations of his belief in the great truths of our 
religion (although I know not what right we have to question 
his sincerity), but I am swayed more by the devotional feelings 
which from time to time, without premeditation or design, break 
out in his writings, and the incidental Indications he gives of his 
full conviction of the being and providence of God, and of the 
Divine mission of our blessed Saviour. His lapses from the path 
of honour afford no argument against the genuineness of his spec- 
ulative belief. Upon the whole we may be well assured that the 
difficulties which at one time perplexed him had been completely 
dissipated; his keen perception saw as clearly as it Is ever given 
to man in this state to discover — the hand of the Creator, Pre- 
server and Governor of the universe; — and his gigantic intellect 
must have been satisfied with the consideration, that assuming 
the truth of natural and of revealed religion, it is utterly incon- 
sistent with the system of human affairs, and with the condition 
of man in this world, that they should have been more clearly 
disclosed to us. 

Campbell's opinion that Bacon was unduly influenced for a 
time by French philosophers, meaning infidel speculators, is 
hardly borne out by records. He had a wide correspondence 

326 



FRANCIS BACON 

with men of many faiths ; was a friend of the free-thinking 
Bruno who visited him in England ; of the Roman Catholic 
Matthew, and of the French philosopher Montaigne, which 
somewhat disturbed Lady Bacon who was a Puritan. The fact 
is, that he was a lover of men, and tolerant of all their faiths, 
realizing the fact that no human mind embraces all the truth 
of man's relation to God ; but we fail to find anything which 
shows that he was unfaithful at any period of life to the car- 
dinal principles of Christianity. He, of course, studied French 
philosophers, for we find that he lays it down as highly wise to 
study the bad as well as the good, that the bad may be under- 
stood and shunned, but his mind was too stable to be easily 
moved by mere opinions. This is what he says himself: — 

A little philosophy maketh men apt to forget God, as attribut- 
ing too much to secondary causes; but depth of philosophy bring- 
eth a man back to God again. 

Campbell, however, amply allows for his seeming slips by 
this : — 

Among his good qualities it ought to be mentioned, that he had 
no mean jealousy of others, and he was always disposed to patron- 
ize merit. Feeling how long he himself had been unjustly depressed 
from unworthy motives, he never would inflict similar injustice 
on others, and he repeatedly cautions statesmen to guard against 
this propensity, — "He that plots to be a figure among ciphers 
is the decay of a whole age." ^ 

And he might have quoted this saying of his : — 

Power to do good Is the true and lawful end of aspiring; for 
good thoughts though God accepts them, yet toward men are 
little better than dreams except they be put in act, and that can- 
not be without power and place as the vantage and commanding 
ground. 

Bacon's sudden fall from a brilliant position, where he had 
received the adulation of the greatest men of his time, which 
must in the nature of things have appealed to all the passions 

^ Lives of the Lord Chancellors, vol. in, p. 143. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

of frail humanity, made him suddenly see mirrored in his 
heart the faults he had committed. He had been reared in 
the strict Puritan faith which utterly condemned worldliness 
and pride of heart, and insisted that its followers who yielded 
to these sins should humble themselves and confess them. 
His state of mind is revealed in his reply to the question why 
he did not attend the coronation festivities after the King 
had restored him to the peerage, — "I have done with such 
vanities." Sick and weary of bending the supple hinges of the 
knee to a ridiculous king and an infamous favorite, as men 
were obliged to do who ventured into the field of politics, he 
condemned himself for his folly, saying, "The talents which 
God has given me I have misspent." True he begged to have 
his disabilities removed which made men point to him as a 
disgraced man, and, as Campbell says, he no doubt would 
have been glad to return to Parliament, where there were so 
many reforms awaiting a champion. In view of the opinions 
of Macaulay and Campbell this may seem to objectors a sen- 
timental attempt to whiten a smirched penitent, but all the 
opinions of these eminent historians are not of equal validity, 
as criticism has revealed, and such objectors are advised to 
seek farther. 

He has placed his faults under the second head of his table 
of wrongdoings by judges; namely, "Neglect to ascertain if 
the cause be at an end where gifts are made." Bacon was 
notoriously careless of his pecuniary affairs, as so many men 
of genius have been. An officer of the court received these 
fees, and out of the seven thousand causes upon which Bacon 
had rendered decisions, there was but one in which it was 
claimed that he received the fee himself, and this was in the 
presence of Churchill, whom he had discharged for malfeas- 
ance, and Gardner, both tools of the arch-conspirators. The 
value of this testimony the reader must estimate. It must 
have been clear to Coke that if this were done by Bacon in the 
presence of these men, he could not have thought it wrong, 

328 



FRANCIS BACON 

for it would have been a greater act of folly for him to have 
put himself in their power than even Coke would have deemed 
him guilty of. The attempt to prove that the Lord Chancellor 
had been influenced in his decisions of gifts miserably failed 
when two of the star witnesses had to acknowledge that their 
cases had been decided against them. It may be safely af- 
firmed that but for Bacon's "confession," nobody, from a 
study of the case and a knowledge of the motives behind it, 
would for a moment sustain Campbell's opinion. Neglect is the 
substance of his confession; otherwise how could he say: — 

I have not hid my sin as did Adam, nor concealed my faults in 
my bosom. This is the only justification which I will use. 

And writing to Buckingham he tells him that he had been 

The justest Chancellor that hath been in the five changes since 
Sir Nicholas Bacon's time. 

And again, — 

I praise God for It. I never took penny for my beneficent or 
ecclesiastical living; I never took penny for any commission or 
things of that nature; I never shared with any reward for any 
second or Inferior profit. 

This was explicit enough. 

Bacon was Lord Chancellor a little over three years. His 
enemies found the few irregularities against him in the first 
part of his tenure of oflSce, when he was new to its methods, 
and overwhelmed with work. Not a case was found during his 
last two years of service. To his diligence in office this letter 
to Buckingham of June 8, 1617, a year after he assumed office, 
testifies: — 

My Very Good Lord, — This day I have made even with the 
business of the kingdom for common justice. Not one cause un- 
heard. The lawyers drawn dry of all the motions they were to 
make. Not one petition unanswered. And this, I think, could 
not be said In our age before. This I speak not out of ostentation, 
but out of gladness when I have done my duty. I know men think 

329 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

I cannot continue if I should thus oppress myself of business. 
But that account is made. The duties of life are more than life. 
And if I die now I shall die before the world be weary of me, 
which in our times is somewhat rare. 

It would seem that to make no active defense was thought 
by him to be wise; indeed, it would have been useless, and 
possibly dangerous. His office was wanted by men too power- 
ful to struggle against, and the best policy was to submit. 
This he did, and, accepting his loss of position, resumed his 
literary industries, and devoted himself to them with unre- 
mitting diligence. 

Bacon has so many eulogists that, in estimating his intellect- 
ual attainment, it may be wise to listen first to the opinions of 
Campbell, rather than to those of one having greater admira- 
tion for his genius. Historical writers always appeal to Camp- 
bell's estimate of his character, but rarely to his opinion of his 
genius. While the learned jurist failed to set proper limits 
to Bacon's frank acknowledgment of profiting by a custom 
sanctioned by those in power, which he did not approve, he 
was generous in awarding him the highest praise for intellect- 
ual abiHty. He says : — 

I find no impeachment of his morals deserving of attention, 
and he certainly must have been a man of very great temperance, 
for the business and studies through which he went would be 
enough to fill up the lives of ten men, who spend their evenings 
over their wine, and awake crapulous in the morning — knowing 
that if he took good care of sections of an hour, entire days would 
take care of themselves. 

All accounts represent him as a most delightful companion, 
adapting himself to company of every degree, calling, and hu- 
mour, not engrossing the conversation, but trying to get all to 
talk in turn on the subject they best understood, and "not dis- 
daining to light his candle at the lamp of any other." 

He also quotes from Macaulay, who, censuring him for 
wasting his talents on "paltry intrigues," renders him the 
unique tribute of possessing "the most exquisitely constructed 

330 



FRANCIS BACON 

intellect that has ever been bestowed on any of the children of 
men." 

Garnett calls him "the greatest intellect of his age"; and 
observes that 

It is characteristic of the duality of his nature, that his intel- 
lectual conscience did not mislead him, and even gave him 
strength to rejoice at the purification of justice, though to his 
own shame and detriment.^ 

Macaulay says : — 

In his magnificent grounds he erected, at a cost of ten thou- 
sand pounds, a retreat to which he repaired when he wished to 
avoid all visitors, and to devote himself wholly to study. On such 
occasions, a few young men of distinguished talents were some- 
times the companions of his retirement, and among them his 
quick eye soon discerned the superior abilities of Thomas Hobbes. 
It is not probable, however, that he fully appreciated the powers 
of his disciple, or foresaw the vast influence, both for good and 
for evil, which that most vigorous and acute of human intellects 
was destined to exercise on the two succeeding generations. ^ 

Who were these young men but those being fitted for the 
fraternity, which with unselfish devotion was to spread learn- 
ing abroad ^ 

Every scrap of the large bulk of manuscript material which 
the Bacons have left ought to be printed. Various hints can 
be gathered from them which will throw light on their ac- 
tivities. Note these: — 

Layeing for a place to command wytts and pennes, Westmin- 
ster, Eton, Wynchester, spec(ially) Trinity Coll., Cam., St. 
John's, Cam.: Maudlin Coll., Oxford. 

Qu. Of young schollars in ye universities. It must be the post 
nati. Giving pensions to four, to compile the two histories, ut 
supra. Foundac: Of a college for inventors. Library, Inginary. 

Qu. Of the order and discipline, the rules and prsescripts of 
their studyes and inquyries, allowances for travelling, intelli- 
gence, and correspondence with ye universities abroad. 

Qu. Of the maner and prsescripts touching secresy, traditions 
and publication. 

^ English Literature, p. i6. ^ Essays, p. 303 et seq. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Here we get a glimpse of his work. 
Says Spedding: — 

In him the gift of seeing In prophetic vision what might be 
and ought to be, was united with the practical talent of devising 
means and handling minute details. He could at once Imagine, 
like a poet, and execute like a clerk of the works. Upon the 
conviction, "This may be done," followed at once the question 
"How may it be done.?" Upon that question answered, followed 
the resolution to try and do It.^ 

Bearing this in mind, we invite the reader to note carefully 
the following passage from "The New Atlantis": — 

The end of our Foundation Is the Knowledge of Causes and 
secret motions of things, and the enlarging of the bounds of hu- 
man empire, to the effecting of all things possible. . . . 

That Bacon was a pioneer in the assertion of popular rights 
is shown by his record. It is said that after his insistence upon 
the rights of the Commons, the Queen sent an angry message 
to him to the effect that he might never expect from her fur- 
ther favor or promotion. Macaulay comments upon this as 
follows : — 

The young patriot condescended to make the most abject 
apologies : — the lesson was not thrown away. Bacon never 
oifended In the same manner again. 

"And yet," says Spedding, "this letter is a justification and 
no apology,"^ and Abbott, "It is worthy of note that among 
the many expressions of regret at the royal displeasure, there 
is no record of any apology tendered by Bacon for his speech."* 

There can be no doubt that Macaulay has misinterpreted 
Bacon's letter. That no man could be advanced to office in the 
reign of Elizabeth without being subservient to the Crown 
cannot be denied. Campbell says of Coke that though he "was 
known to be an incarnation of the common law of England," 

^ The Works, etc. 

^ Life and Letters, vol. i, p. 233. 

^ Introduction to Bacon's Essays, vol. i, p. xxix. 



FRANCIS BACON 

he could not have attained a high office "without . . . hav- 
ing given any sure earnest of sound political principles"; and 
he calls attention to the fact that when new Speakers of the 
House of Commons made the usual request for liberty of 
speech and ancient privileges, she sharply admonished them 
" to see that they did not deal or intermeddle with any matters 
touching her person or estate, or church or government." ^ 
This was demanding the exercise of "sound poHtical princi- 
ples" with a vengeance, for it might be stretched to apply to 
almost any subject. 

Macaulay declared before his death that he regretted hav- 
ing so severely censured Bacon. It would appear that he be- 
gan to realize the theoretical nature of his writing which had 
been sharply criticized. Though a fascinating wTiter, he was 
apt to permit his fancy for rhetoric to beguile him, hence he is 
not always a safe guide. His pride of opinion and intolerance 
of views differing from his own are exemplified in his over- 
sharp criticism of Montagu's work. 

Had Macaulay read Fuller, who, after speaking of Bacon's 
education and talents, pays him the compliment of reducing 
" Notional to Real and Scientifical Philosophy " .? Says Fuller : 

He was afterwards bred in Gray's Inn, In the Study of our 
Municipal Law, attaining to great Eminency, but no Preferment 
thereon, during the reign of Queen Elizabeth; Imputable to the 
envy of a great Person, who hindered his risifig, for fear to be 
hindered by him if riseii and Eclipsed in his own profession. Thus 
the strongest zving of merit cannot mount, If a stronger weight of 
malice doth depress It. Yet was he even then Favorite to a Favorite ^ 
I mean, the Earl of Essex, and more true to him than the Earl 
was to himself. For finding him to prefer destructive before dis- 
pleasing Counsel, Sir Francis fairly forsook, not his person, (whom 
his pity attended to the grave) but practices, and herein was not 
the worse friend, for being the better subject. — Such as con- 
demn him for pride, if in his place, with the fift part of his parts, 
had been ten times prouder themselves; he had been a better 

^ John Campbell, The Lives of the Lord Justices, etc., vol. i, pp. 218, 224. New 
York, 1874. 

333 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Master if he had been a worse, being too bountiful to his servants, 
and either too confident of their honesty, or too conniving ^ at their 
falsehood. 

The story is told to his disadvantage, that he had two Servants, 
one in all causes Patron to the PlaintiflFe, (whom his charity pre- 
sumed always injured) the other to the Defendant, pitying him as 
compelled to Law) but taking bribes of both, with this condition, 
to restore the money received if the Cause went against them. Their 
Lord ignorant hereof, always did impartial Justice, whilst his 
men (making people pay for what was given them) by compact 
shared the money betwixt them, which cost their master the loss 
of his office.^ 

The "great Person" who, Fuller says, hindered his rising 
was, of course, Cecil, who Greene tells us was the "mortal 
enemy of Essex," as he always was of Bacon. As an instance 
of unfair criticism. Bacon Is accused In Sir James Mackintosh's 
"History of England" of having written the "History of 
Henry Vn," to flatter James L This notion had found currency 
among his enemies, and perhaps Incited the truculent Pope to 
throw this at him, "The wisest, brightest, meanest of man- 
kind." To this Macaulay delightedly called attention. Sped- 
dlng has completely disposed of the charge, but we must content 
ourselves by calling attention to the principal points In Bacon's 
behalf: namely, he had contemplated this history for fifteen 
years, and had furnished for Speed's "History of England" a 
sketch of it twelve years before the later publication ; besides, 
the character created by Bacon is also wholly unlike that of 
James except in two particulars, love of peace and conjugal 
constancy. Henry's shortcomings were conspicuously due to 
deficiencies in himself, and not to want of opportunity or un- 
towardness of fortune, which was far from flattering to James. 
We are compelled to give this wholly inadequate reference to 
Speddlng's defense for lack of space, and refer the reader to 

^ In the sense of "to pass unnoticed, uncensured, or unpunished." Imp. 
Diet, in loco. 

2 Thomas Fuller, D.D., The History of the Worthies of England, pp. 242, 
243. London, 1662. 

334 



FRANCIS BACON 

the original.^ "But," says Campbell, "it is absurd to suppose 
that James and Buckingham would not cordially have sup- 
ported him if he could have been successfully defended." - 

"Jaco" and "Steenie"! — those two unworthy mortals 
whose lives were spent in placing obstacles across the path of 
English liberty, but which, providentially, gave it the oppor- 
tunity of accumulating force; how could Campbell have made 
such a slip as this ? A study of the case discloses the reason. 
He gave undue weight to a note of dissent appended by Buck- 
ingham to the judgment of the court. Bacon had said to the 
King, whose cowardice was proverbial, "Those who strike at 
your Chancellor will strike at your Crown." He also made 
a bold demand of Buckingham for release from the Tower, 
which was granted promptly, for Buckingham was not free 
from political cowardice, and must have felt the insecurity of 
his position which later resulted in his assassination. Histori- 
cal portraits of him are so common that they seem almost as 
much out of place here as would Velasquez's ubiquitous por- 
trait of Philip IV of Spain; yet it may be proper to .give this 
from Green : — 

No veil hid the degrading grossness of the Court of James and 
of Buckingham. . . . The payment of bribes to him, or marriage 
to his greedy relatives, became the one road to political prefer- 
ment. Resistance to his will was inevitably followed by dismissal 
from office. Even the highest and most powerful of the nobles 
were made to tremble at the note of this young upstart.^ 

His note of dissent was insincere. The Chancellor was done 
with, and to assume the role of a magnanimous and kindly 
patron appeared well to his friends. Had Campbell studied 
his case more carefully he would have refrained from making 
this careless remark. 

Perhaps one of the most noteworthy bits of testimony to 

^ The Works, etc., vol. ii, pp. 13-40. 

^ Lives of the Lord Chancellors, vol. 11, p. 1 16. 

^ Green, Short History, p. 487. 

335 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Bacon's beauty of character is furnished by the vokmtary 
confession of Thomas Bushell. 
tract: — 



The following is an ex- 



A Letter to his approved beloved Mr. John Eliot, Esq. 

The ample testimony of your true affection towards my 
Lord Veruiam, Viscount St, Albans, hath obliged me your serv- 
ant. Yet, lest the calumnious tongues of men might extenuate 
the good opinion you had of his worth and merit, I must ingenu- 
ously confess that myself and others of his servants were the 
occasions of exhaling his vertues into a dark eclipse; which God 
knowes would have long endured both for the honour of his King 
and the good of the Commonaltie; had not we whom his bountie 
nursed, laid on his guiltlesse shoulders our base and execrable 
deeds to be scand and censured by the whole Senate of a State, 
where no sooner sentence was given, but most of us forsoke him, 
which makes us bear the badge of Jewes to this day.^ 

Bushell's repentance was so sincere that he retired to a 
desolate island, the Calf of Man, where for three years he led 
the life of a hermit, sheltered by a hut built with his own hands 




FACSIMILE OF THE SEAL OF THOMAS BUSHELL 

and subsisting upon herbs, oil, mustard, and honey, "with 
water sufficient." His lifelong attachment to Bacon, who 
took him into his service as a youth, "principally" educated 
him and paid his debts when in financial trouble, is further re- 

^ Rev. A. de la Peyme, Memoirs of Thomas Bushell. 1878. 



FRANCIS BACON 

vealed by a large and finely executed gold medal, bearing the 
head of his benefactor crowned with the familiar hat, with 
Bushell's name on the obverse.^ The knowledge acquired by 
assisting Bacon in his scientific experiments led to his con- 
nection with the royal mines in Wales, and fortune. Bushell's 
service to the state finally won for him burial in the cloisters 
of Westminster Abbey. ^ 
Said Matthew of Bacon : — 

A friend unalterable to his friends — it is not his greatness that 
I admire, but his virtue.^ 

And Rawley, his chaplain : — 

I have been induced to think that if ever there were a beam of 
knowledge derived from God upon any man in these modern 
times, it was upon Francis Bacon.^ 

Aubrey and others are equally emphatic in their expressions 
of his character. 

His ability for accomplishing work was astounding. During 
the first four terms of his office the number of orders and de- 
crees made by him were eight thousand seven hundred and 
ninety-eight, and the number of suitors whose cases were 
settled, thirty-five thousand. Nothing like this had been ac- 
complished before. 

That Bacon was a sincere Christian cannot reasonably be 
doubted. The great Puritan movement drew to itself, as all 
great reforms do, many fanatical and half-crazed men who 
had suffered by oppression, and were intolerant of all who 
could not go to the extremes to which they went. Bacon, who 
was reared in this form of faith, could not adopt many of its 
narrow views, and was as sincerely friendly with the Catholic 
Matthew as with the Episcopal Rawley, or the Puritan Cecil. 

^ Horace Walpole, Anecdotes of Painting, etc., vol. i, p. 254. London, 1862. 
The author inappropriately denominates him a medalist. 

* Cf. Diet. Nat. Biog. in loco. 

' Spedding, Italian Letter, Works, etc., vol. i, p. 52. 

* Rawley's Life, p. 47. 

337 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

None but a clear-sighted and sincere Christian, however, could 
have made this prayer: — 

Remember, O Lord! how thy servant has walked before Thee; 
remember what I have first thought, and what hath been prin- 
cipal in my intentions. I have loved thy assemblys. I have 
mourned for the diversions of Thy Church. I have delighted in 
the brightness of Thy Sanctuary. This Vine which Thy right 
hand hath planted in this nation, I have ever prayed with Thee 
that it might have the first and the latter rain; and that it might 
stretch its branches to the seas and to the floods. The state and 
bread of the poor have been precious in mine eyes; I have hated 
all cruelty and hardness of heart. I have, though in a despised 
weed, procured the good of all men. 

With respect to the charge that he had forsaken Essex, one 
made against other friends of the Earl who would not go his 
length in committing acts savoring of treason, he said : — 

Any honest man that hath his heart well planted will forsake 
his King rather than forsake his God, and forsake his Friend 
rather than forsake his King; and yet will forsake any earthly 
commodity, yea, his own life in some cases, rather than forsake 
his Friend. 

In this frame of mind he went back to his books with a joy 
which finds its echo in "Henry VIII": — 

Grif. His Overthrow, heap'd Happinesse upon him 
For then, and not till then, he felt himselfe, 
And found the Blessednesse of being little. 
And to adde greater Honors to his Age 
Than man could give him; he dy'de fearing God. 

IV, 2. 

That he was free from the vice of arrogance in an age when 
it was almost fostered as a virtue, is proved by ample testi- 
mony, and also that he was generous to a fault. His sanguine 
temperament, says Boener, caused him to will to charity so 
much that his estate failed to satisfy his creditors, and his 
property was sold at a sacrifice. He was a prophet without 
honor in his own country, and it was left to future ages to 

338 



FRANCIS BACON 

honor his memory. After the triumph of his enemies, some of 
whom he saw without any sign of satisfaction come to their 
well-merited deserts, Bacon labored with restless energy to 
complete and publish his literary works, realizing that his end 
was not distant. It was during this period that he printed his 
"Novum Organum," the "History of Henry VII," "Historia 
Vitae et Mortis," and reprinted and enlarged his "Essays." 

Bacon's scientific attainments have been criticized by his 
defamers, who especially quote against him some of the puer- 
ilities and misconceptions, especially in medicine and natural 
history, peculiar to the age in which he lived, and by which he 
was somewhat influenced. In reading some of these criticisms 
the caustic saying of Ben Jonson naturally comes to mind: 
"The writer must lie, and the gentle reader rests happy to 
have the worthiest works misinterpreted." Such criticisms 
are unjust, for there was no man living in his day who might 
not be criticized in the same manner. The vision of Dr. Har- 
vey, whose fame as the discoverer of the circulation of the 
blood has been blown ad astra, though he was anticipated by 
Servetus ^ in the same degree that Bacon was by Aristotle in 
the inductive process, was limited in many directions by the 
boundaries which the schools of his day had fixed. It is the 
same to-day. The wisest student in science refuses immediate 
acceptance of a novel discovery until he has had ample time 
for verification by the most exacting tests. Everybody now 
knows that a railway from the Atlantic to the Pacific was 
a feasible project, but when it was proposed some of the 
best thinkers demurred. One of these declared that it was 
chimerical; no railway train could possibly pass the Rocky 
Mountains in winter. When the road was opened he re- 
ceived a free pass for the journey. No human intellect has 
compassed, or ever will compass, all learning. While Bacon 
may have been as Hallam declares, "The wisest, greatest of 

* Christianismi Restitutio, in which the circulation of the blood is quite 
clearly explained. 

339 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

mankind," his knowledge was relative to that of his generation. 
The world was distracted with speculations upon many sub- 
jects. Though the baleful flames of Marian martyrdom had 
subsided, theological controversy had not. Novel scientific 
theories were abundant, and philosophy was throwing apples 
of discord into the arena. At any other time Bacon might 
have welcomed Galileo's disclosures, but the great discov- 
erer's instruments were but toys compared with those of to- 
day, and he doubted their efficiency. The same may be said 
of Gilbert's magnetic researches ; he was interested in them, 
but Gilbert was experimenting with a subject of such magni- 
tude that it is still a mystery. 

Walsh utterly condemns him for not adopting his theories 
at once : in fact, like the German Diihring, he goes out of his 
way to obscure his fame, as though it were to bring into 
brighter light the accomplishments of Peregrinus, Roger Ba- 
con, Albertus Magnus, and other ancient students. Of course, 
every modern scholar should know, and will acknowledge the 
debt the world owes these men, who labored in a dismal age 
of ignorance which regarded even the good Friar Bacon as a 
wizard, and threw him into prison for dealing with "certain 
suspicious novelties," compelling him to hide in an anagram 
his formula for gunpowder, derived, by the way, from an 
Arabian source. Dr. Walsh condemns Francis Bacon as a 
charlatan for making use of the knowledge of his predecessors. 
We are sure, however, that he will not claim that the knowl- 
edge of Roger Bacon and other ancient scholars had its origin 
in their own minds: indeed, we would be glad to know the 
origin of a single modern invention, or so-called discovery. 

When Francis Bacon began to study the phenomena and 
laws of nature and of mind. Englishmen neither knew nor 
cared to know aught beyond the limits circumscribing the 
system of Aristotle. Francis Bacon did what Roger Bacon and 
others of an earlier age did, availed himself of the common 
stock of knowledge gathered by teachers of the past, and en- 

340 



FRANCIS BACON 

larged and adapted what he found best suited to his puqDOses 
to the conditions of the age in which he lived. If Dr. Walsh 
had confined himself to a relation of what the ancient scholars 
accomplished for science, we should be more greatly indebted 
to him. As it is, his readable and somewhat useful book savors 
of religious prejudice which should find no place in modern 
discussion. This remark of the doctor's shows clearly his 
animus : — 

Personally I have always felt that he [Francis Bacon] has 
almost less right to all the praise that has been bestowed on him 
for what he is supposed to have done for science, than he has for 
any addition to his reputation because of the attribution to him 
by so many fanatics of the authorship of Shakespeare's plays. 

Strangely enough, he also says that 

Macaulay is much more responsible for his reputation than is 
usually thought; — his favorite geese were nearly all swans, in 
his eyes.^ 

We accept the last clause of the statement, but repudiate the 
preceding one. Francis Bacon's reputation rests upon more 
permanent foundations that Macaulay's unstable opinions. 
The source of Walsh's diatribe is found in De Maistre's lurid 
work in which he declares Bacon to have been a charlatan and 
impostor, and he "preached science, but like his church with- 
out a mission"; derides his **De Augmentis" and avers that 
the "Novum Organum" is worthy of Bedlam.^ 
Says Spedding: — 

He could follow Gilbert in his enquiries concerning the load- 
stone, and he was not silent about him, but refers to him fre- 
quently, with praise both of his industry and his method; censur- 
ing him only for endeavoring to build a universal philosophy upon 
so narrow a basis. So again with regard to Galileo. The direct 
revelations of the telescope were palpable, and he was not silent 
about them; but hailed the invention as " of memorable consider- 

^ James J. Walsh, M.D., LL.D., Popes and Science, pp. 283-84. New York, 
1911. 

* Joseph de Maistre, Examen de la Philosophie de Bacon. Paris, 1 836. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

ation," — a thing '^worthy of mankind.'''' There was no doubt 
that it brought within the range of vision things invisible before, 
but when it came to the inference deducible from the phenomena 
thus revealed, he could no longer speak with confidence. It was 
then ^^from this point it seems to he shown" and " how far by dem- 
onstration belief in this method 7nay be safely held," the language 
of a man who did not feel certain in his own mind whether the 
demonstration was conclusive or not, — which is the natural con- 
dition of a man who does not thoroughly understand it.^ 

Had it not occupied too much space we would have quoted 
Bacon's own expressions in full, but Spedding has briefly and 
simply summed them up. 

Bacon, too, it is objected, was not a lover of mathematics, 
and it is concluded, somewhat hastily, could not have been a 
great scientist. We are quite willing to accept the statement 
that he did not possess the true mathematical mind. Had he 
been so endowed, it is certain that we should not be writing 
this book. Mathematical poetry would hardly be worth dis- 
puting about. He has been assailed with ridicule for failing 
to accept the Copernican system of astronomy, the truth of 
which is now so firmly established; but how was it then.? 
Many of the best thinkers did not adopt it. What, too, was 
the exact situation of affairs .? Bruno, who afterwards suffered 
martyrdom at Rome for his opinions, visited England in 1583.^ 
Oxford and Cambridge were then utterly neglecting the teach- 
ing of natural philosophy. To Oxford, Bruno, whose fame had 
preceded him, repaired, and, being versed in the system of 
Copernicus, hoped to introduce its study into that university. 
He has been represented as a perfervid enthusiast, and he 
doubted not to interest the faculty of the institution in his 
plans ; but the learned and ultra-conservative doctors of Ox- 
ford did not yield readily to the views of the brilliant and elo- 
quent Italian, and they stoutly maintained the old faith which 

* The Works, etc., vol. vi, p. 444. Italicized words our translation. 

* Green, Giordano Bruno, his Life, etc. Buffalo, 1889. Cf. Moritz Carriere, 
Life, etc. London, 1887. 



FRANCIS BACON 

they had inherited, that the sun revolved about the earth, 
which was ocularly evident, and though Bruno argued much 
better in favor of the new but less evident faith, that the re- 
verse was true, he was disappointed in the result of his mission. 
Bacon was then twenty-three, and most of the men with 
whom he associated. Catholic and Protestant, were opposed to 
the new theory. 

He was then busy in another field of literary activity, and 
it is not strange that he spoke of Copernicus as *'a man who 
thinks nothing of introducing fictions of any kind into nature, 
provided his calculations turn out well" ; a fault too often found 
in the polemical contentions of the time when men sought only 
to support preconceived theories, giving little heed to facts. 

It was many years after Bacon's death, before the mists of 
Aristotelian philosophy vanished before the advancing light 
of a new age of scientific empiricism, and yet from immemorial 
time the beaming scroll of the universe had hung outspread 
before the eyes of men in all its splendor, revealing to their 
vision a region of boundless wonders which had invited ex- 
ploration in vain. The achievements of Copernicus, who with 
the eyes of a seer had explored the infinite regions of space, 
were slow of acceptance; yet of all men Bacon should have 
welcomed them, for he as fully recognized the importance of 
the study of phenomena as Bruno, both of whom regarded the 
universe as a perfection of mechanism, designed by its Creator 
among other beneficent purposes for the study of men, and 
their consequent advancement toward a larger knowledge of 
Him. We know that Rawley says that 

Before he left Cambridge, when but sixteen, he first fell into 
the dislike of the philosophy of Aristotle; not for the worthless- 
ness of the author, to whom he would always ascribe higher at- 
tributes, but for the unfruitfulness of the way; being a philoso- 
phy (as his lordship used to say) only strong for disputations and 
contentions, but barren of the production of works for the bene- 
fit of the life of man, In which mind he continued to his dying day.^ 

^ Rawley, Life, etc., p. 37. 

343 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Let us quote a few of numerous authorities upon his scien- 
tific attainments whose opinions are of value. 
Says Professor Fowler: — 

The result of Bacon's "First Vintage" is remarkable in the 
history of science. Anticipating the theory of heat now gener- 
ally accepted, he defines it as "a motion, expansive, restrained, 
and striving amongst the smaller particles of bodies." Even the 
modern theory as to the undulatory character of this motion 
seems to be anticipated in the following passage, which is quoted 
with approbation by Professor Tyndall, "The third specific differ- 
ence is this, that heat is a motion of expansion, not uniformly of 
the whole body together, but in its ultimate particles; and at the 
same time checked, repelled, and beaten back, so that the parti- 
cles acquire a motion," — it is surely a striking testimony to his 
genius that, in his main conception of heat as an expansion and 
oscillatory motion amongst the minute particles of matter, he 
should have anticipated the precise conclusion at which, after 
the predominance, for a long time, of a different theory, the most 
eminent physicists have at length arrived. 

Fowler also says that 

He ought to have the credit of having detached the conception of 
attraction from that of magnetism.^ 

Says Professor Nichol: — 

Bacon's anticipations in physical science are like those of the 
" Faerie Queene," about the star's filght of an imagination almost 
as unique in prose as Shakespeare's in verse. He was the first 
philosophic spokesman, in being the first to fully recognize the 
increasing purpose of the time. 

And quoting his remarks upon the circumnavigation of the 
globe, he continues : — 

In this and similar passages we have the air of the same breezes 
that blow through "The Tempest" — and much of the "Faerie 
Queene" — the Queen of England, Ireland, and Virginia. 

1 Thomas Fowler, M. A., F.S.A.,5^co«, p. 120. New York, 1 88 1. Cf. Tyndall, 
Heat as a Mode of Motion, Appendix to chap. 11, ibid., 339, 3d ed.; and Fowler's 
Novum Organum. Oxford, 1878. 

344 



FRANCIS BACON 

This wholly independent association of Bacon with the author 
of the "Shakespeare" and "Spenser" works is striking, but is 
by no means an isolated case. Many acute thinkers, uncon- 
scious of its bearing upon the question of a common author- 
ship of these works, have done the same. Nichol further 
says : — 

The fact that Bacon, during his life, took the unpopular side of 
several questions, that he was disgraced for an offence now se- 
verely judged, and died when there was no one adequate and will- 
ing to defend him. Is enough to explain the character condensed 
in Pope's memorable line, expanded in Macaulay's Essay, re- 
Iterated In Lord Campbell's summary, and assumed by Kuno 
Fischer as, In some measure, a basis for his view of the Baconian 
philosophy.^ 

Says a German thinker : — 

Francis Bacon Is still regarded by his countrymen as the great- 
est philosopher of England, and In this opinion they are perfectly 
right. He is the founder of that philosophy, which is called the 
realistic, which exercised so powerful an Influence upon even 
Leibnitz and Kant, to which Kant especially was Indebted for 
the last Impulses to his epoch-making works, and to which France 
paid homage in the eighteenth century.^ 

Playfair, quoting his remarks on color, concludes that 

He may be considered as very fortunate In fixing on these ex- 
amples: for It was by means of them that Newton afterwards 
found out the composition of light. 

And he further says: — 

The power and compass of a mind which could form such a 
plan beforehand, and trace not merely the outline, but many of 
the most minute ramifications of science which did not yet exist, 
must be an object of admiration to all succeeding ages. . . . 
Bacon has classified facts and explained their peculiar advan- 
tages as Instruments of investigation.^ 

^ John Nichol, Francis Bacon: his Life and Philosophy, pp. 5, vii. Edinburgh, 
1888. 
^ Kuno Fischer, Francis Bacon of Verulam, p. xii. London, 1857. 
^ John Playfair, Outlines of Natural Philosophy, p. 3. Edinburgh, 1819. 

345 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Says John Morley : — 

The French Encyclopedia was the direct fruit of Bacon's mag- 
nificent conceptions. Professor Adamson has well put it In the 
Encyclopaedia Britannica, "The great leader in the reformation 
of modern science." ^ 

And Dean Church: — 

The world has agreed to date from Bacon the systematic re- 
form of natural philosophy, the beginning of an intelligent at- 
tempt, which has been crowned by such signal success, to place 
the investigation of nature on a solid foundation." ^ 

Says Macaulay: — 

He moved the intellects that moved the world. 

All this is said of the philosophical and scientific works 
which he published over his own name. What other works 
did he write which would authorize a contemporary to liken 
him to a great Roman playwriter .f* Stratfordians deny that he 
ever wrote any such works, yet John Davies, one of Bacon's 
"good pens" who is said to have scribbled the names of Bacon 
and Shakespeare in the Northumberland Manuscript, called 
Bacon "Our English Terence." Why did he apply the title to 
Bacon.? Terentius Publiuswas the slave of Terentius Lucanus, 
by whose name he was called. Cicero tells us that plays bear- 
ing his name, the admiration of the Romans, were believed to 
have been written by C. Laelius, and Montaigne observes that 

Could the perfection of eloquence have added any lustre propor- 
tionable to the merit of a great person, certainly Scipio and Lae- 
lius had never resigned the honor of their comedies to an African 
slave, for that the work was theirs, the beauty and excellency of 
it do sufficiently declare; besides Terence himself confesses as" 
much. 

If any man knew the connection of Bacon with the " Shake- 
speare" Works it was John Davies; hence the term he used 

* John Morley, Diderot and the Encyclopedists, vol. i, p. 120. London, 188 1. 

* R. W. Church, Dean of St. Paul's, Bacon, p. 213. New York, 1884. 



FRANCIS BACON 

was peculiarly felicitous, for the "Terence" Works, upon 
which were expended "all the luxuriancies and delicacies of 
the Latin tongue" will always bear the name of the African 
slave. 

Bacon's name has been associated often with that of 
the actor by writers unquestionably of independent judg- 
ment. 

Said Dr. Kuno Fischer, in a work on the philosophy of 
Bacon sixty-eight years ago : — 

The same affinity for the Roman mind, and the same want of 
sympathy with the Greek, we again find in Bacon's greatest con- 
temporary, whose imagination took as broad and as comprehen- 
sive a view as Bacon's intellect. . . . Here Bacon and Shake- 
speare met, brought together by a common interest in those 
objects and the attempt to depict and copy them. 

And he remarks upon what he regards as an astonishing fact 
but one easily explained, that 

Bacon does not even mention Shakespeare when he discourses 
upon dramatic poetry, but passes over this department of poetry 
with a general and superficial remark that relates less to the sub- 
ject itself than to the stage and its uses. As far as his own age 
is concerned, he sets down the moral value of the stage as ex- 
ceedingly trifling. But the affinity of Bacon to Shakespeare is to 
be sought in his moral and psychological, not in his sesthetical 
views . . . however, even in these there is nothing to prevent 
Bacon's manner of judging mankind, and apprehending charac- 
ters from agreeing perfectly with that of Shakespeare; so that 
human life, the subject-matter of all dramatic art, appeared to 
him much as It appeared to the great artist himself. ... Is not 
the inexhaustible theme of Shakespeare's poetry the history and 
course of human passions.? And it is this very theme that is pro- 
posed by Bacon as the chief problem of moral philosophy. 

Says Gervinus : — 

That Shakespeare's appearance upon a soil so admirably pre- 
pared was neither marvelous nor accidental, is evidenced even 
by the corresponding appearance of such a contemporary as 
Bacon. 

347 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

And Emerson: — 

Shakespeare was the father of German Hterature: it was on the 
introduction of Shakespeare into German by Lessing, and the 
translation of his works by Wieland and Schlegel, that the rapid 
burst of German Hterature was most intimately connected.^ 

Why do Stratfordians now severely avoid coupling these 
names together ? Perhaps Yardley, whom we have heretofore 
quoted, has given us the reason. 

Of the facility and rapidity with which he wrote and spoke 
we have the testimony of Rawley and Jonson. Says the for- 
mer: — 

With what sufficiency he wrote let the world judge, and with 
what celerity he wrote them, I can best testify. 

Jonson, who is worth listening to, and trustworthy when 
not inditing a eulogy to help the sale of a book, gives us this 
graphic description of Bacon's eloquence: — 

Yet there happened in my time one noble speaker, who was 
full of gravity in his speaking. His language (where he could 
spare or pass by a jest) was nobly censorious. No man ever spake 
more neatly, more pressly, more weightily, suffered less empti- 
ness, less idleness, in what he uttered. No member of his speech 
but consisted of his own graces. His hearers could not cough, nor 
look aside from him, without loss. He commanded when he 
spoke, and had his judges angry and pleased at his devotion. No 
man had their affections more in his power. The fear of every 
man that heard him was, lest he should make an end.^ 

Tobie Matthew, who knew him perhaps more intimately 
than any one of his friends, describes him as 

A creature of incomparable abilities of mind, of sharp and 
catching apprehension, large and faithful memory, plentiful and 
sprouting invention, deep and solid judgment, a man so rare in 
knowledge of so many several kinds, indowed with the facility of 
expressing it in so elegant, significant, so abundant, and yet so 
choice and ravishing array of words, of metaphors, and allusions, 

^ Representative Men, p. 201. Boston, 1865. 
^ Ben Jonson, Discoveries, p. 46. London, 1841. 

348 



FRANCIS BACON 

as perhaps the world has not seen since it was a world, I know 
that this may seem a great hyperbole, and strange kind of riotous 
excess of speech; but the best means of putting me to shame will 
be for you to place any man of yours by this of mine.^ 

Pierre Amboise, Boener, and many other contemporaries 
speak of him in equally laudatory terms. 

We have endeavored by a careful study of Bacon's char- 
acter and genius, as reflected in his literary remains, recorded 
in history, and depicted by his critics, friendly and otherwise, 
to give the reader a fair portraiture of him. That he partook 
of the abuses of the times in which he lived we do not deny; 
Bacon condemned himself for this. The mistake which he 
made was in seeking public office, which resulted, as it com- 
monly did, in disaster. His highest aspiration impelled him to 
a student's life, and this life offered him the greatest happi- 
ness. He was not alone in being tempted to seek the glittering 
trappings of power. The greatest and best men of England, 
before and since, have done the same, and come to grievous 
ends. He has been charged with being present with the law 
officers of the Crown at the examination under torture of 
the Puritan clergyman, Peacham, who was condemned for 
high treason, having written, though not preached a sermon 
containing severe reflections upon authority; and has been 
blamed for obsequious deference to James and Buckingham. 
With regard to the first of these criticisms, Campbell himself 
in another connection furnishes an answer in these words : — 

It would be very unjust to blame persons who were engaged in 
sixteenth century burning witches or heretics, as if these acts of 
faith had occurred in the reign of Queen Victoria.^ 

To the charge of truckling to those in authority, while we 
to-day may regard as unmanly the ceremonious approach and 
adulatory address to those occupying the seats of power, they 

^ Collection of Letters, etc. 

* Lives of Lord Chancellors, etc., vol. in, p. 114. 

349 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

were simply forms of etiquette in Bacon's day, and necessary 
to secure notice. 

His bitterest mortification was exclusion from Parliament, 
where he had achieved his most brilliant successes. His final 
appeal to the King, not long before his death, is manly, and 
gives us a glimpse of the suffering he endured when he con- 
templated the blot upon his fame which would descend to 
posterity. 

To prostrate myself at Your Majesty's feet, I, your ancient 
servant, now sixty-four years old in age, and three years four 
months old in misery, I desire not from Your Majesty means, nor 
place, nor employment, but only, after so long a time of expia- 
tion, a complete and total remission of the sentence of the Upper 
House, to the end that blot of ignominy maybe removed from me, 
and from my memory with posterity; that I die not a condemned 
man, but may be to Your Majesty, as I am to God 7iova creatura. 
This my most humble request granted, may make me live a year 
or two happily, and denied will kill me quickly.^ 

James, who well knew the methods employed to inflame 
public opinion, did not relieve him of his disabilities. Doubt- 
less his enemies were too insistent upon prolonging his dis- 
grace. Fowler says that 

A limited pardon, the exception being that of the Parliamentary 
sentence, appears to have been sealed by the King in Novem- 
ber, 1621. But the history of this pardon is attended with some 
obscurity.^ 

This date does not agree with the date of his appeal. Bacon, 
however, continued his work. Taking a severe cold while pur- 
suing an experiment in refrigeration, he died on Easter morn- 
ing, Sunday, April 9, 1626. 

He was buried in St. Michael's Church in St. Albans accord- 
ing to his wish, and this epitaph, here translated from the 
original Latin, placed upon his monument, which bears his 
efiigy seated in an attitude of contemplation: — 

^ Life and Letters, vol. v, p. 583. "^ Bacon, p. 23. 



FRANCIS BACON 

Francis Bacon Baron of Verulam Viscount St. Albans 

Or By More Conspicuous titles 

Of Science the Light, of Eloquence the Law, 

Sat thus, 

Who after all Natural Wisdom 

And Secrets of Civil Life he had unfolded 

Nature's Law fulfilled. 

Let compounds be Dissolved. 

In the year of our Lord, MDCXXVI. 

Of his Age LXVL 

Of such a Man 

That the Memory might remain, 

Thomas Meautys 

Living his Attendant 

Dead his Admirer 

Placed this Monument. 

It may be objected that as this is but a brief sketch of Ba- 
con's life, too much time has been expended upon the charges 
against him of malfeasance in office, and that they have little 
relation to his literary genius, and are not therefore pertinent 
to the purpose of this book. To this the author pleads in justi- 
fication, that with many this episode in his life tends to close 
the door against any consideration of his great merits. Sic 
euntfata hominum. 

HIS ROLE 

The works published by Francis Bacon and his executors 
under his own name are numerous, and cover a wide field of 
literary activity. Their perusal reveals him as a great law- 
yer, philosopher, and classical scholar; a scientist, theologian, 
statesman, poet, linguist; his knowledge was remarkable; in- 
deed, as sober a writer as Spedding denominates him "the 
glory of his age and nation, the adorner and ornament of 
learning"; and even Campbell announces his death in these 
words : — 

Thus died, in the 66th year of his age, Francis Bacon, not 
merely the most distinguished man who ever held the Great Seal 

351 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

of England, but, notwithstanding all his faults, one of the great- 
est ornaments and benefactors of the human race.^ 

It is to Francis Bacon that English literature owes the essay 
as an intellectual force. Its introduction occurred at a time in 
English history distinguished for its intellectual activity, its 
romantic spirit, its adventurous achievement and the gross 
ignorance of its masses. Its intellectual supremacy was lim- 
ited to the few, the chief of whom was Bacon, a friend and 
admirer of Montaigne ; some have thought an imitator, but he 
differs from the Frenchman as the gun of Napoleon from that 
of the ancien regime. It is true that there is a resemblance, 
for both deal with the mysteries of life and death, but the 
former touches his subject with a grave directness rarely ex- 
emplified by the latter. 

The few poems which bear his name have never become 
popular. While Campbell says : — 

His English Essays and Treatises will be read and admired by 
the Anglo-Saxon race all over the world to the most distant 
generations — 

he concludes that 

His ear had not been formed nor his fancy fed, by a perusal of the 
divine productions of Surrey, Wyat, Spenser, and Shakespeare, 
or he could not have produced rhymes so rugged, and terms of 
expression so mean. Few poets deal in finer imagery than is to 
be found in the writings of Bacon, but if his prose is sometimes 
poetical, his poetry is always prosaic.^ 

This is the most formidable argument that has been ad- 
duced against the claim that Bacon was the author of the 
"Shakespeare" Works, yet it is not unanswerable. 

The poet and philosopher belong to different zones ; the one, 
a land of enchantment, so alluring that he who adventures in 
it, forgetting material bonds for a while, becomes a seer; the 
other, a land of mountain peaks and misty vales which compel 

^ Lives of Lord Chancellors of England, vol. in, p. 33. 
* Ibid., p. 130. 



FRANCIS BACON 

the soul to contemplation, and a consciousness of the mystery 
of being. The greatest genius is he who enjoys an inheritance 
in both these realms of delight whose fruits are as unlike as 
the zones to which they belong. In later life he may think to 
transplant from one to the other the fruits which in more 
youthful days he loved, but they inevitably lose in generous 
flavor. This may, in a measure, account for some criticism of 
Bacon, who was both poet and philosopher, as was Milton. 
Both have given to the world poetic renderings of David's 
Psalms, and both have left works of philosophy which may 
well be compared. 
Milton's rendering of the eighty-eighth Psalm is as follows: 

Thou in the lowest pit profound 

Hast set me qW forlorn, 

Where thickest darkness hovers round 

In horrid deeps to mourn, 

Thy wrath from which no shelter saves 

Full sore doth press on me; 

Thou breaks't upon me all thy waves, 

And all thy waves break me.^ 

Yet the hand which penned the foregoing lines penned the 
"Comus" from which we extract the following: — 

Can any mortal mixture of Earth's mould 
Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment.'' 
Sure something holy lodges in that breast, 
And with these raptures moves the vocal air 
To testify his hidden residence: 
How sweetly did they float upon the wings 
Of silence, through the empty-vaulted night, 
At every fall smoothing the raven down 
Of darkness till it smiled! I oft have heard 
My mother Circe with the Sirens three 
Amidst the flow'ry-kirtled Naiades 
Culling their potent herbs, and baleful drugs, 
Who as they sung, would take the prison'd soul 
And lap it in Elysium. 

There is no question that Milton was a great poet, yet here 
we have two specimens of his verse. Who would suppose that 

^ The italics are in the original. 

353 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

the version of the eighty-eighth Psalm and the extract from 
"Comus'* were fruit of the same tree? 

This is from Bacon's version of the one hundred and thirty- 
seventh Psalm: — 

When as we sat all sad and desolate, 
By Babylon upon the river's side, 
Eas'd from the tasks which in our captive state 
We were enforced daily to abide, 

Our harps we had brought with us to the field, 
Some solace to our heavy souls to yield. 

But soon we found we fail'd of our account, 

For when our minds some freedom did obtain, 
Straightways the memory of Sion Mount 
Did cause afresh our wounds to bleed again; 
So that with present griefs, and future fears, 
Our eyes burst forth into a stream of tears. 



Hierusalem, where God his throne hath set. 

Shall any hour absent thee from my mind.? 
Then let my right hand quite her skill forget. 
Then let my voice and words no passage find; 
Nay, if I do not thee prefer in all 
That in the compass of my thoughts can fall. 

And thou, O Babylon, shalt have thy turn 
By just revenge, and happy shall he be. 
That thy proud walls and tow'rs shall waste and burn, 
And as thou didst by us, so do by thee. 

Yea, happy he, that takes thy children's bones, 
And dasheth them against the pavement stones. 

Says Spedding: — 

Of these verses of Bacon's it has been usual to speak not only as 
a failure, but as a ridiculous failure, a censure in which I cannot 
concur. I should myself infer from this sample that Bacon had all 
the natural faculties which a poet wants ;^ a fine ear for metre, a 
fine feeling for imaginative eflFect in words, and a vein of poetic 
passion. 

The psalms which Bacon paraphrased, seven in number, 
were dedicated to George Herbert, a friend and author of such 

* That is, requires. 

354 



FRANCIS BACON 

verse, and were written late in life during his confinement by 
illness, which is not a condition especially conducive to poetic 
expression. In the dedicatory note he calls them the "poor ex- 
ercise of my sickness." 
The following is a verse from the ninetieth Psalm : — 

Thou earnest man away as with a tide; 

Then down swim all his thoughts that mounted high; 

Much like a mocking dream that will not hide 

But flies before the sight of waking eye; 

Or as the grass, that cannot term obtain 

To see the Summer come about again. 

"The thought in the second line," says Spedding, " could not 
well be fitted with imagery, words, and rhythm more apt and 
imaginative, and there is a tenderness of expression In the con- 
cluding couplet which comes manifestly out of a heart in sen- 
sitive sympathy with nature." 

The following is a verse from the one hundred and fourth 
Psalm : — 

Father and King of Powers, both high and low. 
Whose sounding fame all creatures serve to blow; 
My voice shall with the rest strike up thy praise 
And carol of thy works and wondrous ways. 
But who can blaze thy beauties, Lord, aright? 
They turn the brittle beams of mortal sight: 
Upon thy head thou wear'st a glorious crown 
All set with virtues, pollsh'd with renown; 
Thence round about a silver veil doth fall 
Of crystal light, mother of colours all.^ 

Of these lines Spedding says : — 

The heroic couplet could hardly do Its work better In the hands 
of Dryden. 

Why, then, may we not ask, if Milton wrote the eighty- 
eighth Psalm, and also some of the finest poetry in the English 
language, — some have thought superior to that published 
under the name, "Shakespeare," — why should it be impos- 
sible for the versifier of the one hundred and thirty-seventh 

' Spedding, Works, etc., vol. xiv, p. 113. 

355 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Psalm to do the same ? Though he has been spoken of as being 
ignorant of poetry, he extolled its influence and possessed a 
deep knowledge of poetic metre. That he wrote more than one 
volume of poetry we know from his legacy to his friend, the 
French ambassador, of his books " curiously rhymed." If such 
an item had been found in the will of the Stratford actor, 
would it not be considered ample proof of his authorship of 
the plays ^ We do not base upon this, however, such a claim 
for Bacon, but speak of it only as one of those many straws 
which help us in forming a better understanding of him. We 
feel warranted in giving specimens of the prose of both writers, 
first one from Milton's 

Treatise on Education 

The end, then, of Learning is to repair the sins of our first 
parents by regaining to know God aright, and out of that knowl- 
edge to love him, to imitate to be like him as we may the nearest 
by possessing our souls of true virtue, which being united to the 
heavenly grace of faith, makes up the highest perfection. But 
because our understanding cannot In the body found Itself but on 
sensible things, nor strive so clearly to the knowledge of God and 
things Invisible, as by orderly covering over the visible and Infe- 
rior creature, the same method Is necessarily to be followed In all 
discreet teaching. 

From Bacon's ^^Advancement of Learning" 

Neither Is the Imagination simply and only a messenger; but 
it Is either Invested with, or usurps no small authority In Itself, 
besides the simple duty of the messenger. For it is as well said by 
Aristotle, "That the mind has over the body that commandment 
which the lord has over the bondsman, but that reason has over 
the Imagination that commandment which a magistrate has over 
a free citizen who may come also to rule in his turn." 

Men differ on all subjects, but perhaps there is none upon 
which they differ more than poetry, for to recognize it, the ear 
must be attuned to divine harmonies; hence a good critic of 
poetry must be a poet. By this it is not meant that he must 
have written poetry, for he may not possess the rare art of 

3S6 



FRANCIS BACON 

expression, but his soul must be like a sensitive harp whose 
chords are in concord with poetic harmonies. 

This explains the diversity of opinion respecting poets great 
and small ; otherwise, why should the critic of the immortal 
Keats have lashed him with ridicule to his death, or Pepys 
say that "Twelfth Night" and "The Taming of the Shrew" 
were silly; "Othello" mean; "Romeo and Juliet" the worst 
play he ever heard in his life; and "Midsummer Night's 
Dream" the most insipid and ridiculous; or Horace Walpole 
call Dante "Extravagant, absurd, disgusting; in short, a 
Methodist parson in Bedlam"; or Racket entitle Milton, "A 
petty school-boy scribbler" ; or, on the other hand, why should 
the poet Shelley declare that "Lord Bacon was a poet"; and 
Lytton praise him so highly as to say that " Poetry pervaded 
the thought, it inspired the similes, it hymned in the majestic 
sentences of the wisest of mankind"? We know how the 
critics sent Poe into obscurity, and how recently they have 
raised him to what seems to be a pedestal of immortal fame ; 
how Tupper had his admirers, and Walt Whitman his devo- 
tees. But it is needless to multiply instances of this com- 
plexion; they are to be found on every hand, and applicable to 
every subject of human experience. 

For three centuries Bacon has stood among the foremost of 
the world's great thinkers. His life was passed in unremitting 
activity, for to his great intellect was added a capacity and 
love of literary work rarely possessed by man. At his death he 
bequeathed his unpublished manuscripts to two of his friends 
with a view to future publication. One of these, Sir William 
Boswell, then Minister to Holland, carried them with him to 
that country, and placed them in the hands of Isaac Gruter, 
a learned friend of their author, who, in 1633, published at 
Leyden the "Sapientia Veterum." This was followed five 
years later by the " Historia Ventorum," and during the next 
fifteen years ten more of his most important works were given 
to the World by the faithful Gruter. But there were other 

357 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

works which were never published, and, unfortunately, have 
disappeared from public ken. What were these works ? Sped- 
ding, Bacon's biographer, after years of labor devoted to the 
study of them, has to conclude that it is a subject involving a 
great secret. 

Gruter, who was in frequent conference with Boswell 
while he was engaged in publishing the works now familiar to 
us, was anxious to publish the others, but for some unknown 
reason was held back. He says in the last book published by 
him that "they ought not to be long suppressed"; and in a 
letter from Maestri cht, March 20, 1655, he wrote Rawley, 
Bacon's old chaplain, secretary and closest friend: — 

If my Fate would permit me to live according to my Wishes, 
I would file over into England, that I might behold of the Veru- 
lamian Workmanship^ and at least make my Eyes witnesses to it, 
if the Merchandize be yet denied to the Publick. At present, I 
will support the wishes of my impatient desire, with hope of see- 
ing one Day those which being committed to faithful Privacie, 
wait the time "till they may safely see the Light, and not be 
stifled in their Birth." 

Thiswas twenty-nine years after Bacon's death, and Rawley 
was advanced in years. No wonder his friend Gruter was 
getting impatient to have this "Merchandize," which Rawley 
kept from the printer, disclosed. It may be objected that 
these could not have been the "Shakespeare" Works, as these 
were then known, but the First and Second Folios gave only a 
portion of the dramatic works, as we have attempted to show, 
and we claim that it is reasonable to infer that there were 
others, and that it might have been a subject of discussion 
whether it were wise to disclose the secret, and give all the 
"Verulamian Workmanship" to the world. 

What were Rawley's motives for keeping them in the dark, 
we can only hope to learn. All that he tells us is that Bacon 

hid his works for another age. Mente Fidebor, by the mind I shall 
be seen. 

3S8 



FRANCIS BACON 

And again: — 

Silence were the best celebration of that which I mean to com- 
mend. My praise shall be dedicated to the mind Itself. The mind 
is the man, and the knowledge of the mind. A man Is but what he 
knoweth. 

A study of Bacon's works reveals his clear outlook upon 
the world. He saw it divided, though by no arbitrary line of 
demarcation, into two classes, the wise and the unwise, or, 
more accurately, the ignorant and the less ignorant. The 
dominant purpose of his life was to convey to mankind, as best 
he could, the light of knowledge, and he adopted a system for 
accomplishing this purpose which he tells us was suggested 
by an ancient usage, though he should apply it differently. 
This was to "deliver" his philosophy by two different meth- 
ods to mankind, so that it might be received by all in the 
course of time, for, he says : — 

It may truly be objected to me that my philosophy will require 
an age, a whole age to commend It, and very many ages to es- 
tablish it. 

And in another place he forbears to explain it 

chiefly because It would open that, which in this work I determine 
to reserved 

One part of this system has been "delivered" to the world, 
and it does not seem strange that the other is sought. Was 
it explained or comprised in the manuscripts which Gruter 
was so desirous of having published? This may be doubted. 
Spedding laboriously puzzles over the "great secret" of 
Bacon's dual system, vainly striving to find a satisfactory 
solution. He says : — 

Bacon professes that It is not his Intention to destroy the re- 
ceived philosophy, but rather that from henceforth there should 
be two coexisting and allied systems — the one sufficient for the 
ordinary purposes of life, and such as would satisfy those who are 
^ Spedding, The Works, etc., vol. i, p. 182. 

359 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

content with probable opinions and commonly received notions 
— the other for the sons of science who desire to attain to cer- 
tainty and to an Insight into the hidden things of nature.^ 

In other words, he, Bacon, would "deliver" to mankind in 
two ways, one in a popular form, which all could receive, and 
the other, to use Bacon's own words, — 

To selected auditors or wits of such sharpness as can pierce the 
veil, one more open; the other, a way of delivery more secret. 

The latter method is plainly disclosed in his philosophical 
works, but where are we to seek for the former which he 
declines to disclose ? " Because," he says, " it would open that, 
which in this work I determine to reserve'^ ^ 

To get a view, as nearly unbiased as possible, of Bacon's 
true place in the realm of thought, one should not fail to read 
the dialogue preceding the " Parasceve," which embodies the 
opinions of two acute thinkers, who, of all who have hitherto 
devoted themselves to the subject, were best fitted by training 
and experience to discuss it dispassionately. 

Says Spedding: — 

If the great secret which he had, or thought he had, in his keep- 
ing, lay only or even chiefly in the perfection of the logical ma- 
chinery — in the method of induction ; if this method was a kind of 
mechanical process — an organum or engine — at once "wholly 
new," "universally applicable," "in all cases infallible," and such 
as anybody might manage; if his explanation of this method in 
the second book of the "Novum Organum" is so incomplete that 
it leaves all the principal practical difficulties unexplained; and 
if it were a thing which nobody but himself had any notion of, or 
any belief in; how is it that during the remaining five years of 
his life — years of eager and unremitting labour, devoted almost 
exclusively to the exposition of his philosophy — he made no 
attempt to complete the explanation of it? Why did he leave 
the "Novum Organum" as it was? ... It was not that he had 
changed his opinion as to the value of it; his sense of the diffi- 
culties may have increased, his views as to details may have al- 

* Spedding, The Works, etc., vol. i, pp. 155-56. * Ibid., vol. 11, pp. 9-39. 

360 



FRANCIS BACON 

tered; but there is no reason to think that he ever lost any part of 
his faith either in the importance or the practicability of it. . . . 
Two years after the publication of the first part of the "Novum 
Organum," and three years before his death, he speaks of the 
second part as a thing yet to be done, but adds, ^^ which, however, I 
have in my mind considered and set in order.'''' It was not that he 
thought the description he had already given suiBcient: in the 
winter of 1622, he tells us that there are ''''not a jew and those of 
prime importance " still wanting. It was not that he wanted either 
time or industry; for during the five succeeding years he completed 
the "De Augmentis," and composed his histories of the "Winds," 
of "Life and Death," of "Dense and Rare"; his lost treatise on 
"Heavy and Light," his lost "Abecedarium Naturae," his "New 
Atlantis," his "Sylva Sylvarum." Why did he employ no part 
of that time in completing the description of the new machine.? ^ 

Though Spedding fails to enlighten us in this regard, we are 
at liberty to ask if any literature of Bacon's time, philosophy 
in a popular form, such as he proposes, can be found .? Doubt- 
less there would be a consensus of opinion, that only the 
"Shakespeare" Works present to the world philosophy in its 
most popular form, and, were Bacon their author, would satis- 
factorily complete the system which he planned. Thus the 
great secret would find a happy solution. 

Says the German critic, Bormann : — 

Whoever places the "Novum Organum" (1620) and the "Ency- 
clopedy De Augmentis Scientiarum" (1623) of Francis Bacon side 
by side with Mr. William Shakespeare's "Comedies, Histories, 
and Tragedies" (1623) must certainly regard them as kindred 
works inasmuch as all three appeared in the same stately form.^ 

The acute mind of Carlyle with almost the clear discern- 
ment of a seer, reflecting upon the philosophy of his favorite 
author, Shakspere, remarks that 

there is an understanding manifested in the construction of 
Shakespeare's Plays, equal in profoundness to the great Lord 
Bacon's "Novum Organum," 

* The Works, etc., vol. 11, pp. 27-29. Italicized words our translation. 

* Edwin Bormann, The Shakespeare Secret, p. 2. London and Leipzig, 1 895. 

361 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

But, he concludes, as any one inevitably does when he com- 
pares them, that the 

"Novum Organum" and all the intellect you will find in Bacon 
is of quite a secondary order; earthy, material, poor in compari- 
son with this. 

Surely Philosophy, in the severe garb of Logic, presents an 
aspect far more earthy and material than Philosophy in the 
ethereal robes of Poetry. Has not Carlyle unintentionally 
qualified himself as an expert witness in behalf of the propo- 
sition, that the works so long accredited to the Stratford actor 
supplement those of Bacon, and together complete the great 
philosopher's dual system? 

But do the "Shakespeare" Works really supplement the 
works of Bacon ? It will be admitted at the outset by all that 
they "deliver" themselves to the minds of even the unlettered 
in a pictorial manner, calculated to attract and instruct, and 
only a casual examination of them reveals the fact that they 
treat of kindred subjects. The Essays of Bacon deal with 
human qualities, as Love, Truth, Envy, Revenge, Ambition, 
Friendship, Anger, and the like, and their author "delivers" 
them to minds capable of the profoundest thought. The 
"Shakespeare" Works treat of Ambition ("Macbeth") ; Love 
("Romeo and Juliet") ; Avarice ("The Merchant of Venice") ; 
Jealousy ("Othello"); Envy ("Julius Caesar"); Hypocrisy 
("Measure for Measure") ; and so on, and the author "deliv- 
ers" through them instruction to minds of even ordinary 
capacity. It would seem, therefore, that it is not unreason- 
able to assume that together they fairly fulfil the require- 
ments of the philosophical system outlined by Bacon. That 
this was his intention appears from his own words, which we 
must accept, or conclude that he left his plan uncompleted. 

The contention that hewas the author of the "Shakespeare" 
Works still remains invincible, and finds support in the works 
themselves, as well as those known to the world as his. To two 
of these supports so long unnoticed we will now give attention. 

362 



FRANCIS BACON 

The Promus. This book particularly illustrates Bacon's 
habits of thought, his keen interest in shaping new words for 
the expression of ideas, and his care in garnering every sheaf 
of knowledge which he found. It is evidently one of the hand- 
books of his literary workshop, or "scriptorium" as he called 
it, to which Jonson, Bushell, Hobbes, Davies, and others, 
whom he called "his good pens," were attached. That it was 
in active existence up to the publication of the Shaksperian 
Folio and "De Augmentis Scientiarum," we know from his 
correspondence with Matthew. Bacon's liberality to those 
about him, leaving his money, when he was in funds, accessi- 
ble to all without question of its use, leads us to believe that 
he exercised the same liberality in other things; in fact, his 
relations to those he employed Spedding shows to have been 
truly affectionate, many of his manuscripts being endorsed 
to his sons, "ad filios." 

That no English author has ever employed so large a vocab- 
ulary as the author of the "Shakespeare" Works is unques- 
tioned, and the same may be said of the number of new words 
added to the language. This already is indicated by Murray's 
New English Dictionary, the first volume of which was pub- 
lished in 1883. This embodied the results of twenty-six years 
of research. Seven volumes only have been published in the 
thirty years which have passed, and it is likely to take fifty 
years from the publication of the first volume to complete it. 
Its most valuable service to the world will be found in what 
we may well call its genealogy of the English tongue. Not only 
does it aim to give every word in the language, but the date of 
its birth, and the name of its progenitor. Of course it is impos- 
sible at the present time to determine accurately the number 
of words originated by different authors, but the seven vol- 
umes already published reveal to us with vitascopical distinct- 
ness hundreds of words originated by the author of the plays. 
This accords with Macaulay's well-known declaration that he 
"carried the idiomatic powers of the English tongue to the 

3^3 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

highest perfection, and to whose style every ancient and every 
modern language contributed something of grace, of energy, 
and of music." 

Robertson, in a futile display of numerous words used in 
common by other writers, especially by Greene, Marlowe, 
Peele, and Kyd, a fact familiar to every student of Tudor and 
Stuart literature, eager to discredit his heretical opponents, 
seems to have been unaware of Bacon's lingual accomplish- 
ments. The futility of his argument that the actor, whose 
ignorance he labors to show, used an immense number of words 
in common use, becomes evident when we consider the esti- 
mate, heretofore regarded as valid, that the vocabulary of an 
English peasant of the actor's time comprised less than four 
hundred words, and that the author of the "Shakespeare" 
Works employed a vocabulary of twenty-one thousand words, 
or three times the number used by Milton, a large number of 
which never had been used by any previous English writer. 
To quote against the actor Robertson's own words applied to 
Bacon's cipher, this presents "a critical chimera which stag- 
gers judgment and beggars comment." 

In the " Promus," which was not intended for publication, 
Bacon recorded proverbs, phrases, apt thoughts, and even 
expressive and hitherto unused words to serve him in his writ- 
ings when occasion offered, a custom not uncommon among 
writers and public speakers. The extent of his lingual ac- 
complishments is indicated by the languages from which 
he culled them, — Greek, Latin, Spanish, French, Italian, 
and English, in all of which he appears to have been an 
adept. His Latin has been questioned, but it is doubtful if 
an author of note in his time has escaped similar criticism. 
On many points of Latin construction authorities often 
diifer. 

This manuscript, consisting of fifty folio sheets numbered 
from 82 to 132, he dignified by the title of the "Promus of 
Formularies and Elegancies"; in other words, a storehouse 

364 



FRANCIS BACON 

of forms and graceful expressions/ and It is of considerable 
moment in our study of his philosophical system. The first 
question which naturally occurs to us is, What use did he 
make of it in his published writings? Our curiosity is soon 
gratified, for the deeper we examine it, the clearer we see the 
use he made of its contents, not always verbally, but some- 
times suggestively as clues to thoughts of larger scope. 

Having satisfied ourselves on this point, another question 
still more insistent presses itself upon us; namely, if Bacon 
had anything to do with the "Shakespeare" Works, ought we 
not to find evidence that he made the same use of the " Pro- 
mus" in them that he did in his other works? With increased 
curiosity we apply ourselves to their critical examination, and 
are rewarded far beyond our expectations ; in fact, we not only 
find in them hundreds of the same thoughts which are found 
in the " Promus," but many in precisely the same verbal form. 
"All's well that ends well," "Believe me," are among favorite 
expressions often repeated in the plays; the latter more than 
fifty times. Such expressions disclose individuality quite as 
much as elaborate thoughts. The following excerpts from 
the "Promus" indicated by numbers of the folios, are culled 
from the 655 entries In them: — 

Folio Qui prete a Tami perd au double = Who lends to a friend 
130 loses double. 

For love oft loses both itself and friend. 

Hamlet, i, 3. 

99 To stumble at the threshold. 

Men that stumble at the threshold. 

5 K. Henry FI, iv, 7. 

84B Galen's compositions, not Paracelsus' separations. 

So I say both of Galen and Paracelsus. 

JU's Well, etc., 11, 3. 

^ Harleian Collection,- no. 7017, British Museum. 
36s 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

95 El buen suena el mal vuela = Good dreams, ill waking. 

Dreame as I have done, 
Wake and finde nothing. 

Cynibeline, v, 4. 

93 Good wine needs no bush. 

Good wine needs no bush. 

As You Like It, Epilogue. 

85 A fools bolt is soon shot. 

A Fools Bolt is soon shot. 

K. Henry F, in, 7, and Js You like It, v, 4. 

I will shoot my fools bolt. 

Letter to Essex. 

92B An yll wind that bloweth no man to good. 

The yll wind which blows no man to good. 

2 Henry IF, v, 3. 

loi Clavum clavo pellere = With one nail to drive out a 
nail. 

One fire drives out one fire, 
One Naile, one Naile. 

Coriolanus, iv, 6. 

As one naile by strength drives out another, 
So the remembrance of my former love, etc. 

Two Gentlemen of Ferona, ii, 4. 

96B A man must tell you tales to find your ears. 

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears. 

Julius Ccesar, in, 2. 
Fasten your eare on my advisings. 

Measure for Measure, in, I. 

We doe request your kindest eares. 

Coriolanus, 11, 2. 

131 Innocence parle avec joie sa defence = Innocence speaks 
with joy her defence. 

The Trust I have is in mine innocence. 

2 K. Henry FI, iv, 4. 
366 



FRANCIS BACON 

92 Seldom cometh the better. 

Seldom cometh the better. 

Richard III, 11, 3. 

Ill Diluculo surgere salubrium. 

Diluculo surgere — thou knowest. 

Twelfth Night, 11, 3. 

96B Thought is free. 

Thought is free. 

Tempest, iii, 2, and Twelfth Night, 11, 3. 

Thoughts are no subjects. 

Measure for Measure, v, 2. 

The above are perhaps sufficient to show how much the 
"Shakespeare" Works are indebted to the "Promus," and 
with it alone for a brief the case for the plaintiff might be 
successfully prosecuted. There is, however, in Bacon's other 
works quite as convincing evidence of identity of expression 
and thought to safeguard his case, and it may be well to 
examine it. 

Opinion 

That the rate of a thing chosen for Opinion, and not for truth, 
is this, that if a man thought that what he doth should never 
come to light, he would never have done it. 

Bacon's Colors of Good and Evil. 

A plague of opinion, a man may weare it on both sides like a leather 
Jerkin. 

Troilus and Cressida, in, 3. 

Slippery Stairs to Honors 

The Stairs to honores are steep, the standing slippery, the re- 
gresse a downfall. 

Advancement of Learning. 

The Art o' th' Court 
As hard to leave as keepe; whose top to climbe 
Is certaine falling, or so slipp'ry, that 
The feare 's as bad as falHng. 

Cymbeline, in, 3. 

367 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

The passions of the mind work upon the body, the impressions 
following. Feare causeth paleness, trembling, the standing of 
the hair upright; starting. 

Sylva Sylvarum. 

Thy knotty and combined locks to part, 
And each particular haire to stand on end, 
Like Quilles upon the fretfuU Porcupine. 

Hamlet, i, 5. 

Your bedded haire like life in excrements. 
Start up and stand on end. 

Ibid, III, 4. 

Adversity 

Adversity is not without comforts and hopes. It was a high 
speech of Seneca, "that . . . the good things that belong to ad- 
versity are to be admired." 

Sweet are the uses of adversitie 

Which like the toad, ugly and venemous, 

Weares yet a precious Jewell in his head. 

As You like It, 11, i. 

Rats quitting a fallen house 

It is the wisdom of rats that will be sure to leave a house be- 
fore it fall. 

Essay on Wisdom 

Instinctively the very rats have quit it. 

Tempest, i, 2. 

Revealing Day 

Revealing day through every crannie peeps. 

From manuscript of Bacon. 

Revealing day through every crannie spies. 

Lucrece. 

Money Breeding 

It is against Nature for money to beget money. 

Essay on Usury. 

Antonio. Or is your gold and silver Eues and Rams? 
Shylock. I cannot tell, I make it breede as fast. 

Merchant of Venice, i, 3. 

368 



FRANCIS BACON 

Music of the Spheres 

If we place any belief in the opinion of Plato and Cardan, a 
divine harmony is generated from the intercourse of the Spheres 
which we cannot hear on account of the greatness of the distance, 

De Naturae Arcanis, etc. 

How aptly this thought finds expression in the "Merchant 

of Venice": — 

Looke how the floore of heaven 

Is Thicke inlayed with patinas of bright gold 

There 's not the smallest orbe which thou beholdst 

But in his motion like an Angell sings 

Still quiring to the young eyed Cherubins. 

V, I. 

This thought of a sympathy existing between the senses, 
explainable by the theory that all the senses are modifications 
of the sense of feeling, is further illustrated by Bacon in his 
''Advancement of Learning," in the following striking man- 
ner: — 

The quavering upon a stop in music gives the same delight to 
the ear that the playing of light upon the water, or the sparkling 
of a diamond gives to the eye — splendit tremulo sub lumine pontus. 

In "Twelfth Night" this thought is strikingly repeated: — 

That straine agen; it had a dying fall; 
O it came ore my eare like the sweet sound 
That breathes upon a banke of Violets: 
Stealing and giving Odour. 

I, I. 

The last two lines find a still closer expression in Bacon's 
" Essay on Gardens " : — 

And because the breath of flowers is far sweeter in the air 
(when it comes and goes like the warbling of music). 

Doves 
The following has been noticed by several writers : — 
Bacon was extremely fond of doves, which Lady Bacon was 
wont to send him on occasions. The following letters written 

369 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

by her from Gorhambury to her son Anthony, the first in 
April, and the second in October, 1595, reveal a notable coin- 
cidence : — 

I send between your brother and you the first flight of my dove 
house, II dozen and IV pigeons; XII. to you and XVI. to your 
brother, because he was wont to love them better than you from 
a boy. 

I send you XII. pigeons, my last flight, and one ring dove be- 
sides. 

I have here a dish of Doves that I would bestow upon your worship. 

Merchant of Venice, 11, 2. 

I have brought you a Letter and a couple of Pigeons here. 

Titus Andronicus, iv, 4. 

To hear with the eyes 

It seemeth both in ear and eye the instrument of sense hath a 
sympathy or similitude with that which giveth the reflection. 

This remarkable thought is from Bacon's *' Natural His- 
tory," in which he treats of the Consent and Dissent of Visibles 
and Audibles, yet it finds expression in Shakspere as follows: 

O, learn to read what silent love hath writ, 
To hear with eies belongs to love's fine wit. 

Sonnet xxiii. 

The World a Stage 

I have given the rule when a man cannot fitly play his own 
part; if he have not a friend he may quit the stage. 

Essay on Friendship. 

But men must know that in this Theatre of man's life, it is re- 
served only for God and Angels to be lookers on. 

Advancement of Learning. 

All the world 's a stage, 

And all the men and women merely players. 

As You Like It, 11, 7. 

Antonio. I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano; 
A stage where every man must play a part. 

Merchant of Venice^ i, i. 



FRANCIS BACON 

Tides and Currents 

In third place I set down reputation because of the peremp- 
tory tides and currents it hath, which if they be not taken in their 
due time are seldom recovered. 

Proficiency and Advancement. 

There is a Tide in the affayres of men 

Which taken at the Flood leades on to Fortune. 

Julius Ccesar, iv, 3. 

Parallels like the foregoing could be multiplied indefinitely, 
but so many have been pointed out by different writers that 
we think best to limit ourselves to a few examples. 

That similar coincidences of thought and expression can be 
found in other writers of Elizabeth's reign we well know. 
Many may be found in all periods among the authors of 
antiquity and of recent times. Contemporary authors living 
under similar conditions are likely to think and express them- 
selves in similar ways, but it is safe to affirm — ruling out 
Spenser, Marlowe, Greene, and Peele, as we hope to show 
valid reasons for doing — that no two authors of Elizabeth's 
time can be found, who at all compare in this regard with those 
to whom the works under discussion are attributed, without 
being open to the charge of plagiarism. The coincidences are 
too numerous to dispose of satisfactorily to dispassionate 
minds. The late Mr. Reed, one of the profoundest of Shak- 
sperian scholars, has said that "The argument from parallel- 
isms in general may be stated thus: one parallelism has no 
significance; five parallelisms attract attention; ten suggest 
inquiry; twenty raise a presumption; fifty establish a prob- 
ability; one hundred dissolve every doubt." 

He gives in his book, "Bacon and Shakespeare Parallel- 
isms," eight hundred and eighty-five, all most striking. 
Others have added to these, and we believe the number can 
be doubled. The puerile attempts to break the force of Mr. 
Reed's evidence are pitiable indeed. We would give Mr. 
Charles Crawford's curious attack upon the " Promus " were it 

371 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

worthy of sufficient space, but its display of egotism, false as- 
sumptions and immaturity of thought, forbid it. 

THE NORTHUMBERLAND MANUSCRIPT 

In the large mass of Francis and Anthony Bacon's corre- 
spondence preserved in English archives, the name of the 
Stratford actor has not been found. So far as written evidence 
goes, both Francis and Anthony were unaware of his existence 
and of the "Shakespeare" Works. We know that Francis was 
deeply interested in dramatic art, and that Anthony at one 
time changed his city abode in order to be near the playhouse ; 
yet not a word appears even in their most familiar correspond- 
ence to indicate that the man whose birthplace is now the 
Mecca of deluded pilgrims, and whose name was then on some 
of the best poetry of the time, was known to them ; though he 
was living in the then small city of London, and had appeared 
— in a minor capacity it is true — at Court performances. 
This silence is too significant to be ignored ; it was intentional. 
Serving as a mask, it was prudent, in case of inquiry, for 
Bacon not to be in any way identified with him. His intimate 
acquaintance with "Richard II" is evinced by his statement 
to the Queen that the author had purloined "most of the sen- 
tences of Cornelius Tacitus"; but we have another similarly 
significant piece of evidence in a volume of his manuscripts, 
probably not written later than 1598, and only discovered in 
1867. This is the Northumberland Manuscript, or "Confer- 
ence of Pleasure," according to its title. Its table of contents 
reveals many items, as speeches written for Essex in 1595, and 
one for the Earl of Sussex, 1596; a letter written for Arundell 
to the Queen. These represent a kind of service which his 
pregnant pen often rendered to his friends. Besides there are 
orations at Gray's Inn, and, most interesting of all, the plays 
of "Richard 11" and "Richard III." 

We can imagine the cruel disappointment of the discoverer 
of this precious volume, when he eagerly turned its leaves in 

372 














TITLE-PAGE OF BACON'S VOLUME OF MANUSCRIPTS FOUND AT NORTHUMBERLAND 
HOUSE ONCE CONTAINING COPIES OF RICHARD II AND RICHARD III' 

' In modern script with portion of scribblings expurgated. 



FRANCIS BACON 

search of these manuscript plays, and found that they had 
been removed. We can but confess to a lively sympathy for 
him, having had similar experiences ourselves. 

There are other interesting items in the volume; its title- 
page has been scribbled upon, and among the scribblings we 
find a Latin verse; the line, "Revealing day through every 
cranny peeps," which is better than the same line in " Lucrece," 
which ends with the word "spies," a forced change to com- 
plete a rhyme; the strange word "honorificabilitudino" found 
extended in "Love's Labours Lost," published in 1598; 
"Anthony — Baco — Bacon — By Mr. Francis Bacon — 
Sh-Shak — Will-William Shakespeare — " etc., many times 
repeated. We give this title-page in modern script, eliminating 
a portion of the names scribbled upon it, but leaving several 
to show its character more clearly, and, especially the line 
"By Mr. ffrauncis William Shakespeare," and the inverted 
word "ffrauncis" over them. The curious scrolls at the 
top of the page seem to have been a fad of Bacon. The 
same scrolls are found on the title-page of "Les Tenures 
de Monsieur Littleton," annotated in the handwriting of 
Bacon. 

The first thought is that the juxtaposition of the names 
Francis Bacon — William Shakespeare is startlingly sugges- 
tive, and the inquiry naturally occurs. Why was the book 
despoiled of the plays .f* The answer seems evident. The 
author's lodgings were liable to be visited at any time by the 
pursuivants in search of evidence against Bacon's friend and 
employer, Essex, and these plays would have proved danger- 
ous evidence against him as a participant in the Earl's treason. 
This will find confirmation from a consideration of the play of 
"Richard IL" 

Richard II, when it first appeared on the stage, contained 
a scene relating to the dethronement of the reigning monarch, 
which was so suggestive that it excited the anger of the Queen. 
Seemingly to mend matters it was printed anonymously with- 

373 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

out the objectionable scene. This was in 1597 in which year 
two editions were published, and the next year, the actor 
having become a householder and nominal, if not de facto citi- 
zen of Stratford, it was again printed, this time with the name 
** William Shakespeare" on its title-page. The Queen, always 
realizing her perilous position, did not forget the transgression 
of the author in the first instance, for being some time after 
in the Tower with the Keeper of the Records examining his 
digest of the Rolls, and coming to the reign of Richard, she 
impulsively exclaimed, to the confusion of the obsequious 
official, "I am Richard II; know ye not that.?" 

The play proved unfortunate for all concerned except the 
putative author, who seems to have been fortunately out of 
the way, which might have saved him an ear or a hand. As it 
was, it placed Bacon, whom the Queen seems to have sus- 
pected of its authorship, in a perilous position ; added weight 
to the trial which delivered Essex to the headsman ; and aided 
in consigning John Hayward, one of Bacon's fellowship at 
Gray's Inn, to the Tower, where he wore out many months of 
precious life. Hayward had written a sketch of the reign of 
Henry IV which he dedicated to the unfortunate Essex, and 
had it not been for this play, it is doubtful if the Queen would 
have displayed so much violence toward him. This was 
shortly before the open rebellion of Essex, and when the plot- 
ters of treason desired to inflame the ever-smouldering pas- 
sions of the multitude, they bethought themselves of the old 
play as a promising method of doing so, and, says the record 
of the Council prepared by Bacon : — 

The afternoon before the Rebellion, Merricke, with a great 
company of others that were all in the action, had procured to be 
played before them the play of deposing King Richard II. Neither 
was it casual, but a play bespoken by Merricke, and not so only, 
but when it was told him by one of the players that the play was 
old, and that they should have loss in playing it, because few 
would come to it; there were forty shillings extraordinary given 
to play it, and so thereupon played it was. 

374 



FRANCIS BACON 

Against Hayward, Elizabeth was especially furious, as she 
saw in his dedication of his "Henry IV" to Essex evidence of 
a sinister meaning, and she dispatched him summarily to the 
Tower, that near step to the block. Bacon was ordered by her 
to proceed in the case against Essex, and though he begged to 
be excused, was compelled to do so. This enabled him to limit 
inquiry into the authorship of the play as well as to shield Hay- 
ward. In doing this he furnishes us with an interesting glimpse 
of his embarrassing position. His reply to his associates when 
he was assigned the part of investigating the matters relating 
to Hayward, we should particularly note. 

It was allotted to me that I should set forth some undutiful 
carriage of my Lord, in giving occasion and countenance to a 
seditious pamphlet as It was termed, which was dedicated unto 
him, which was the book before mentioned of King Henry the 
Fourth. Whereupon I said that It was an old matter, and had 
no manner of coherence with the rest of the charge, being matters 
of Ireland, and, therefore, that / having been wronged by bruits be- 
fore, this would expose me to them more; and it would be said I gave 
in evidence my own tales. 

It should be noted that Hayward's sketch of Henry IV 
touched upon the point of hereditary succession. The play of 
"Richard II " was more offensive, and more perilous to Bacon, 
who was constantly fencing to ward off inquiry in that direc- 
tion, for if Ha3rward's sketch was found to be treasonable, how 
much more the play. This thought appears to have been 
uppermost in his mind when the Queen sought him to discuss 
the subjects of his investigation, Hayward's "Henry IV," 
and "Richard II." Evidently the latter is what he had in 
mind when he rather ambiguously alludes to the subject of 
discussion as being ''A matter which, though it grew from me, 
went after about on other s names'' Is not this a plain acknowl- 
edgment of his authorship of the play.? 

"The Queen," says Bacon, "thinking it a seditious prelude 
to put into the people's heads boldness and faction, said she 
had good opinion that there was treason in it, and asked if I 

375 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

could not find any places in it that might be drawn within 
case of treason ; whereunto I answered, for treason truly found 
I none, but for felony very many. And when her Majesty 
hastily asked me wherein ? I told her ' the author had taken 
most of the sentences of Cornelius Tacitus and translated them 
into EngHsh, and put them into his text';"^ alluding to 
"Richard IL" 

Hayward, however, was her bird in the hand, and she vindic- 
tively urged Bacon to find something upon which to convict 
him. The influence that he possessed over her is exhibited 
strikingly in this episode. Evidently suspecting that he knew 
more about the subject than he disclosed to her, she attacked 
his most sensitive point, by declaring that the pamphlet, the 
subject which Bacon tenaciously held her to, as the least 
dangerous, "had some more mischievous author, and said, 
with great indignation, that she would have him racked to 
produce his author." To this Bacon says he replied: "Nay, 
madame, he is a doctor, never rack his person, rack his stile ; 
let him have pens, ink and paper, and help of books, and be 
enjoined to continue the story where it leaves ofi^, and I will 
undertake, by collecting the stiles, to judge whether he were 
the author or no." 

Never was more adroit reply made, and in spite of her bad 
qualities, Elizabeth was quite capable of appreciating the 
fact; indeed, it is quite possible that Bacon's witty treatment 
of the subject prevented her from seeking some more pliant 
instrument of her vengeance. As it was she contented herself 
with keeping Hayward in his cage while she lived. 

During this season of inquiry it may be asked. Where was 
the nominal author of the play.? The mystery has been ex- 
plained by the statement that he was "probably" in hiding, 
and that the mysterious thousand pounds of Southampton, 
who was involved in the rebellion, was what kept him out of 
sight; and, indeed, this may be true, for Southampton was 

* Spedding. Cf. Works, etc., vol. xiii, p. 341. 




EFFIGY SURMOUNTING MONUMENT 

From photograph loaned by William 
Stone Booth, Esq. 



FRANCIS BACON 

then in danger of his head, and would have paid many thou- 
sand pounds to save it. 

In this account of the play and pamphlet we have endeav- 
ored to avoid the confusion into which those who have treated 
them seem to have fallen, caused, perhaps, by Bacon's ambig- 
uous language. A critical examination, we feel sure, warrants 
our treatment of them. 

The fact that these plays in manuscript were in a book made 
up of Bacon's writings, coupled with what he says relative to 
the play, is a piece of evidence of their authorship by him 
so strong that ridicule of Baconian logic will not avail with 
reasonable minds. The trivial objection that the incriminat- 
ing table of contents was left in the book will doubtless be 
urged against us, but it has passed into a proverb that culprits 
are forgetful. 

The contemporary character of the scribblings are unques- 
tionable. Whether Bacon wrote them, or Davies, one of his 
scribes, does not particularly affect our interest in them. The 
word "Honorificabilitudino" is interesting, and most sugges- 
tive, as it is found in "Love's Labours Lost," as we have before 
said, with four syllables added. 

We believe that the unprejudiced reader will conclude that 
the Northumberland Manuscript is a strong link in the chain 
of evidence in favor of Bacon's authorship of the "Shake- 
speare" Works. Had we one as strong in favor of the actor's 
authorship it would be considered unbreakable by his friends. 
Consider for a moment what it would be to the Stratfordian 
cause, if a manuscript volume of pieces known to have been 
his were found with a table of contents comprising the titles 
of "Richard 11" and "Richard III," with the evidence that 
they had been removed from it. What meetings would be 
convened, what rejoicings we should hear. It would be a 
proud day for Lee and Robertson, and everybody interested 
in Shaksperian copyrights. 



IX 

THE SONNETS 

The Sonnets have proved to be a treasure trove to lit- 
erary faddists, and one who is lavish of time and patience to 
follow them in their wanderings can but realize how limited 
is human endeavor in speculative fields. Books galore have 
been written to discover the identity of "W. H." to whom 
the Sonnets were dedicated, as though this were matter of 
grave importance. One writer discerns behind the mysteri- 
ous letters, which he reverses, Henry Wriothesley; others, 
William Harvey, William Hart, William Herbert, William 
Hathaway, and William Hughes. Mary Fitton, one of the 
actor's supposed mistresses, has also played an unsavory role 
in the discussion. 

The writer, therefore, has not the temerity, if he has 
the disposition, to advance any startling theory respecting 
these poetic gems, but we now have Bacon's life before us 
more fully than ever before, and we will venture to ask the 
reader, after a careful perusal of the Sonnets, — and they 
are amply worthy of very many readings, — to reread them 
in the light of Bacon's life, with this one suggestion, that it is 
quite natural for one whose mind is self-centered and intro- 
spective, to address himself in the third person: "Why art 
thou cast down, O my soul?" asks the psalmist; "And why 
art thou disquieted in me?" That they reflect the changing 
moods of the author and reflect his experiences is evident and 
admitted by all. 

That Bacon's experiences were peculiar is equally evident. 
Brought up in the atmosphere of a godless court, surpassing 
his contemporaries in learning, in brilliancy of mind, and in 

378 



THE SONNETS 

keenness of wit; with small means, but, for a considerable por- 
tion of his life, in expectancy of high official honors ; constantly- 
disappointed, owing to the Queen's distrust of him fostered 
by enemies enjoying official power, yet inspired by the highest 
ideals, and secretly devoting his life to the mental enfranchise- 
ment of his fellow men in an age when a knowledge of his 
work would have brought him to the block, it would be im- 
possible for the work of such a man not to be colored by his 
life. Realizing this himself he expresses fear of discovery 
thus : — 

LXXVI 

Why write I still all one, ever the same, 

And keep invention in a noted weed. 

That every word doth almost tell my name, 

Showing their birth and where they did proceed? 

Let us for a moment consider, if a poet were to write certain 
sonnet sequences embodying the experiences of his life, — 
and in the Sonnets we are reviewing all critics have recognized 
that their author was doing this, — how he would naturally 
proceed. Without doubt he would begin with springtime and 
youth, when both are brimming with life and the youthful 
heart is dominated by the Muse of Poetry. To her it joyously 
and wholly devotes its love, and pours out all the passion 
which inspires its song: — 

I 

Thou that art now the world's fresh ornament 
And only herald to the gaudy spring, 
Within thine own bud buriest thy content 
And, tender churl, mak'st waste in niggarding. 

The singer's thought now becomes more self-centered, for 
he makes little distinction between his music and himself, and 
with the happy insouciance of the dreamer vibrates between 
them. To follow him in his varying moods this clue must 
not be dropped. The "gaudy spring" inevitably suggests the 

379 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

somber winter of Age, as imagination turned selfward mirrors 
his own lineaments : — 

II 

When forty winters shall besiege thy brow 
And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field, 
Thy youth's proud livery, so gazed on now. 
Will be a tatter'd weed, of small worth held: 

It follows, in harmony with the creative impulses of nature, 
that he must preserve in another the beauty of his youth: — 

III 

Look in thy glass, and tell the face thou viewest 
Now is the time that face should form another; 
Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest, 
Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother. 

VI 

Then let not winter's ragged hand deface 

In thee thy summer, ere thou be distill'd: 

Make sweet some vial; treasure thou some place 

With beauty's treasure, ere it be self-kill'd. 

That use is not forbidden usury, 

Which happies those that pay the willing loan; 

That's for thyself to breed another thee, 

Or ten times happier, be it ten for one; 

Ten times thyself were happier than thou art, 

If ten of thine ten times refigured thee: 

Then what could death do, if thou shouldst depart, 

Leaving thee living in posterity? 

Be not self-will'd, for thou art much too fair 

To be death's conquest and make worms thine heir. 

VII 

Lo, in the orient when the gracious light 
Lifts up his burning head, each under eye 
Doth homage to his new-appearing sight, 
Serving with looks his sacred majesty: 
And having climb'd the steep-up heavenly hill, 
Resembling strong youth in his middle age, 
Yet mortal looks adore his beauty still, 
Attending on his golden pilgrimage; 

380 



THE SONNETS 

But when from highmost pitch, with weary car, 

Like feeble age, he reeleth from the day, 

The eyes, 'fore duteous, now converted are 

From his low tract, and look another way: 
So thou, thyself out-going in thy noon, 
Unlook'd on diest, unless thou get a son. 

What does the future forecast for him? He has had his 
human love to whom as Rosalind he once sang, the embodi- 
ment of all the graces of his muse. In all his songs they and 
his own soul are triune. To him these are not divided by lines 
of time and space. 

XVII 

Who will believe my verse in time to come. 
If it were fill'd with your most high deserts? 
Though yet, heaven knows, it is but as a tomb 
Which hides your life and shows not half your parts. 
If I could write the beauty of your eyes 
And in fresh numbers number all your graces, 
The age to come would say "This poet lies; 
Such heavenly touches ne'er touch'd earthly faces." 
So should my papers, yellowed with their age, 
Be scorn'd, like old men of less truth than tongue, 
And your true rights be term'd a poet's rage 
And stretched metre of an antique song: 

But were some child of yours alive that time, 
You should live twice, in it and in my rhyme. 

Having reflected upon the vicissitudes of life, he turns his 
glance to the more material conditions by which his life is 
hampered which estrange him from his poetic muse compel- 
ling him to toil "still farther off from thee." 

Dr. Rawley, Bacon's chaplain, who was his most intimate 
companion, wondered greatly at the extent of his knowledge, 
ascribing it not so much to books, though he was a great reader, 
as to some faculty akin to inspiration. The night-time is most 
favorable to clear thinking, and happy indeed is the man who 
can retain a clear recollection of his night thoughts. Bacon 
could do this and we are told by Boener that he 

381 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Seldom saw him take up a book. He only ordered his chaplain 
and me to look in such and such an author for a certain place, 
and then dictated to us early in the morning what he had com- 
posed during the night. 

Lady Anne, knowing his devotion to study, in her solicitude 
for his health which had become impaired, in a letter to An- 
thony, wrote : — 

Verily I think that your brother's weak stomach to digest hath 
been much caused and confirmed by untimely going to bed, and 
then musing, I know not what, when he should sleep. 

This habit is here disclosed: — 

XXVIII 

How can I then return in happy plight, 

That am debarr'd the benefit of rest? 

When day's oppression is not eased by night. 

But day by night, and night by day, oppress'd? 

And each, though enemies to either's reign, 

Do in consent shake hands to torture me; 

The one by toil, the other to complain 

How far I toil, still farther off from thee. 

I tell the day, to please him thou art bright. 

And dost him grace when clouds do blot the heaven: 

So flatter I the swart-complexion'd night; 

When sparkling stars twire not thou gild'st the even. 
But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer, 
And night doth nightly make grief's strength seem stronger. 

But he thinks of the muse to whom he is devoted, and 

though disappointed, cramped, and hindered in his aspirations, 

he exclaims: "Haply I think on thee," and becomes greater 

than a king : — 

XXIX 

When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes, 
I all alone beweep my outcast state, 
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, 
And look upon myself, and curse my fate. 
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope. 
Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd, 
Desiring this man's art and that man's scope, 
With what I most enjoy contented least; 

382 



THE SONNETS 

Yet In these thoughts myself almost despising, 

Haply I think on thee, and then my state, 

Like to the lark at break of day arising 

From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate; 

For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings 
That then I scorn to change my state with kings. 

His muse will, of course, have other lovers, and his "poor 
rude lines" will be "Exceeded by the height of happier men," 
and he asks, — 

XXXII 

If thou survive my well contented day. 

When that churl death my bones with dust shall cover 

And shalt by fortune once more re-survey: 

These poor rude lines of thy deceased Lover: 

Compare them with the bettering of the time, 

And though they be out-stript by every pen. 

Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme. 

Exceeded by the height of happier men. 

Oh then vouchsafe me but this loving thought, 

Had my friends Muse grown with this growing age, 

A dearer birth than this his love had brought 

To march in ranks of better equipage: 

But since he died and Poets better prove, 
Theirs for their style I'll read, his for his love. 

He must be separated from the embodiment of his genius : — 

XXXVI 

Let me confess that we two must be twain. 

Although our undivided loves are one: 

So shall those blots that do with me remain, 

Without thy help, by me be borne alone. 

In our two loves there is but one respect. 

Though in our lives a separable spite. 

Which though it alter not love's sole effect. 

Yet doth it steal sweet hours from love's delight. 

I may not evermore acknowledge thee. 

Lest my bewailed guilt should do thee shame. 

Nor thou with public kindness honour me, 

Unless thou take that honour from thy name: 
But do not so; I love thee in such sort, 
As thou being mine, mine is thy good report. 

383 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

But he asks : — 

XXXVIII 

How can my Muse want subject to invent, 

While thou dost breathe, that pour'st into my verse 

Thine own sweet argument, too excellent 

For every vulgar paper to rehearse? 

O, give thyself the thanks, if aught in me 

Worthy perusal stand against thy sight; 

For who's so dumb that cannot write to thee, 

When thou thyself dost give invention light? 

Be thou the tenth Muse, ten times more in worth 

Than those old nine which rhymers invocate; 

And he that calls on thee, let him bring forth 

Eternal numbers to outlive long date. 

If my slight Muse do please these curious days, 
The pain be mine, but thine shall be the praise. 

Yet he seems to set the greatest store by his work: — 

XXXIX 

O, how thy worth with manners may I sing. 
When thou art all the better part of me? 
What can mine own praise to mine own self bring? 
And what is't but mine own when I praise thee? 

It has been a subject of wonder with his biographers why 
the Stratford actor took no interest in the works ascribed to 
him, and the reply seems evident; namely, that he was not 
their author. The following, however, shows that the author 
of the Sonnets fully appreciated the value of his literary work 
which his keen critical sense told him excelled that of his con- 
temporaries : — 

LV 

Not marble, nor the gilded monuments 

Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme? 

But you shall shine more bright in these contents 

Than unswept stone, besmear'd with sluttish time. 

When wasteful war shall statues overturn, 

And broils root out the work of masonry. 

Nor Mars his sword nor war's quick fire shall burn 

The living record of your memory. 



THE SONNETS 

'Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity 
Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room 
Even in the eyes of all posterity 
That wear this world out to the ending doom. 
So, till the judgment that yourself arise, 
You live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes. 

We come now to perhaps the most striking self-revelation 
we have thus far met. The alluring but illusive sin of self- 
love flits across the path of his thought, and he recognizes 
himself in the specter. Hitherto his confidence in the crea- 
tions of his brain has charmed him into the belief that he was 
gifted with genius above his fellows, but now his real self is 
revealed to him — his age and condition — an inevitable ex- 
perience of an introspective soul at some point in life. 

LXII 

Sin of self-love possesses all mine eye, 

And all my soul, and all my every part; 

And for this sin there is no remedy, 

It is so grounded inward, in my heart. 

Methinks no face so gracious is as mine. 

No shape so true, no truth of such account; 

And for myself mine owne worth to define, 

As I all other in all worths surmount. 

But when my glass shows me myself indeed, 

Beated and chopp'd with tann'd antiquity 

Mine own self-loving quite contrary I read; 

Self so self-loving were iniquity. 

'Tis thee, myself, that for myself I praise, 
Painting my age with beauty of thy days. 

Is it possible that the Stratford actor, then especially ab- 
sorbed in petty trade and overreaching his neighbors, could 
have indulged such reflections as these.? The author of the 
"Arte of English Poesie" might have scanned these lines 
without sulking. 

The fame of his work, however, must be enjoyed by 
another whose epitaph even he must make if he survives 
him: — 

38s 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

LXXXI 

Or I shall live your epitaph to make, 

Or you survive when I in earth am rotten; 

From hence your memory death cannot take, 

Although in me each part will be forgotten. 

Your name from hence immortal life shall have. 

Though I, once gone, to all the world must die: 

The earth can yield me but a common grave, 

When you entombed in men's eyes shall lie. 

Your monument shall be my gentle verse. 

Which eyes not yet created shall o'er-read; 

And tongues to be your being shall rehearse, 

When all the breathers of this world are dead; 

You still shall live — such virtue hath my pen — 
Where breath most breathes, even in the mouths of men. 

An unprejudiced mind, acquainted with the character and 
life of the Stratford actor, and the social prejudices of his day 
which consigned a strolHng player to the limbo of contempt, 
refusing him the right to practice his calling unless under the 
responsible protection of some one in power, must admit that 
what has been quoted cannot possibly reflect his experiences. 
We give but a few of the one hundred and fifty-four of these 
Sonnets which require a volume to do them justice. That there 
are obscurities in them is evident from the perplexing theo- 
ries which have been formed respecting them. Some, indeed, 
probably refer to different subjects. Space, however, will not 
permit us to discuss this question at present. Whether the 
glosses we have attached to those we have quoted are more 
reasonable than those heretofore given, the reader must judge. 

That Bacon was known as a poet by his contemporaries 
is proved by abundant evidence. Perhaps the most impor- 
tant proof of the esteem in which he was held is exhibited 
in the "Great Assizes holden in Parnassus." The two parts 
of the Pilgrimage to, and the Return from, Parnassus were 
produced respectively in 1597, 1598, and 1601. "The Great 
Assizes" was printed in 1645. Raphael had depicted in the 
Vatican the triumph of antique art under the poetic influ- 

386 



THE '^1 

AT assises! 

Holden in PARNASSVS 

B Y 









AND 

S ASSESSOVRS: 



At which Seffions are Arraigned 



^P Mercuritis Britanict^s, 
1^ Mcrcurins Aulicus, 
^P" MercuriHS Civicus, 

^^ The writer of Dittr nails, 
^0 The lntdligenccr» 



The writer of Occurrences, 

The writer ofPaffages, 

The Pofi^ 

The Spye, 

The writer of weekly Accounts. 

The Scott if) T>ove^(^c. 



% 



^ LONDON, i 

^^ VnvXtdby Rich/irdCotes^ for Edward Hsi^hands^mdztQ to \ 
^ be fold at his Shop in the Middle Temple ^ 1645. i 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

ence of the Renaissance, and the author or authors of the 
Pilgrimage and Return framed the trilogy to be enacted at St. 
John's College, to depict the antithesis of the modern art of 
learning under the demoralizing influence of the age. We 
have already alluded to the Pilgrimage to and Return from 
Parnassus. The culmination is found in the Great Assizes con- 
vened at Parnassus for the trial of the trashy and misleading 
Literature of the period. To the lofty mount of Learning, 
crowned with its temple, the university, prefigured in their 
dreams as Parnassus, the glorious abode of Apollo and the 
Muses, the lovers of Learning journey; but find, after experi- 
ence, how vain have been their dreams, and return to the 
world disillusioned. In time the fact beams luridly upon their 
vision that the golden age of literature has past, and is being 
supplanted by an age of trashy pamphleteers and news-scrib- 
blers. The lovers of true literature thereupon appeal to 
Apollo, who convenes a high court to meet at Parnassus. The 
great authors, principally of the past, are summoned as asses- 
sors by Apollo; a jury is impanelled, and the principal male- 
factors, the newspapers of the day, are first placed on trial. 
The title-page here shown gives their names. ^ 

1 Sir Philip Sidney, d. 1586. 

William Budeus, French scholar, friend of Erasmus, d. 1540. 

John Picus, Earl of Alirandola, an Italian philosopher and scholar of the Re- 
naissance, d. 1494. 

Julius Caesar Scaliger, Italian philosopher and author, d. 1558. 

Erasmus of Rotterdam, famous classical scholar, d. 1536. 

Justus Lipsius, philologist and critic, d. 1606. 

John Barclay, author of the Argents, d. 1621. 

John Bodine, French publicist, d. 1596. 

Isaac Casaubon, Swiss classical scholar and theologian, d. 1614. 

John Selden, author and friend of Bacon, d. 1654. 

Hugo Grotius, Dutch jurist and statesman, d. 1645. 

Daniel Heinsius, Dutch scholar and author, d. 1655. 

Conradus or Gerardus Vossius, German classical scholar and author, d. 1649. 

Augustine Mascardus, d. 1640. 

Joseph Scaliger, French scholar, d. 1609. 

Ben Jonson, d. 1637. 

John Taylor, Water Poet, d. 1654. 

Edmund Spenser, d. 1598. 

388 




The Lord V e r v l a n, 

Cha/tccllor tf Pari'safftis. 
Sir P HI L IV Sidney, 

High ConfiaClc of Par, 
William B v d e vs , 

High Treafitrcr, 
John P1CVS5 Earle 

of Mirandula, High 

ChamberUine, 

JvLIVS CeSAH 
SCALIOER 



Erasmus RoterOdam. 
Justus Lipsius 
John Barcklay 
John Bodinb 
Adrian Tvrnebvs 
Isaac Casavbon 
John Selden 
HvGO GrotIvs 
Daniel Heinsivs 
conradvs vossivs 
August IN E Ma scardus 



the Juronrs, 

George Wither 
Thomai Gary 
Thoracis May 
IVUliam Ddvenant 
^ofuah Sylvefter 
Ceorges Smdes 
OHichael Drayton 
Francis Seanmofst: 
^ohn Fletcher 
Thont/ts ffajivood 
William Shdefpecre 
Thilip lUfsinger, 



The MakfaSionrs, 

Mercnriui Brit aniens 
Mercurias AttlictiS 
Mer curias Civicm 
The Stout 

The writer of Diurnah 
The Intelligencer 
The writer cf Occurrences 
The Yoriter of Parages 
The Pofie 



TfjeSpye 

Thewriter of weekely Accomts 

TheScottijh Dove^d'C* 

As Jo* 

[)S E ? H SCALICER,! 

the Cenfour of man- 
ners in iarn^tis^ 



Ben. Johnson, Kee- 
per of the Trophonian 

I)enne. 

John Taylovr, Oy- 
er cf the Courc. 



Edmvnd Spe ncep., 
Clerk of the Affifes. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

At the head is Apollo and next to him is Verulani, or Bacon, 
his chancellor. From this single circumstance it is evident 
that the God of Music and Poetry regarded Bacon as worthi- 
est among mortals of the chief seat in Parnassus. 

The Assize is opened with the statement, that the 

Learned Scaliger, the second of the twaine 
Second to none in Arts did late complaine 
To zvise Apolo, of some strange abuses, 
Committed against him and the Nine Muses. 
Your Grace well knowes (I need not to relate) 
How Typographie doth concern your state, 
Which some pernicious heads have so abus'd, 
That many wish it never had been us'd: 
This instrument of Art, is now possest 
By some, who have in Art no interest: 
For it is now imploy'd by Paper-wasters, 
By mercenary soules and Poetasters, 
Who weekly utter, slanders, libells, lies, 
Under the name of spacious novelties. 

This is not a bad description of the periodical press of to- 
day, though the newspaper when this was written had been 
but a few years in vogue. 

(The Court thus set) the sturdy Keeper then. 

Of the inhospitall Trophonian Den 

His trembling Pris'ners brought unto the barre 

For Sterne aspect, with Mars hee might compare 

But by his belly, and his double chinne, 

Hee look'd like the old Hoste of a New Inne. 

Thus when sone Ben his fetter'd cattell had 

Shut up together in the pinfold sad; 

John Taylour, then the Court's shrill Chantecleere 

Did summon all the Jurours to appeare: 

He had the Cryers place; an office fit. 

For him that had a better voyce than wit. 

The obnoxious newspapers, Mercurius Britannicus, Aulicus, 
Civicus, Poste, Spye, Scottish Dove, and several offending 
scribblers, after a hearing received various sentences; the 
Scottish Dove being a foreign sheet, the lightest, which was 
that 

390 



THE SONNETS 

Hee to his native countrey must repaire, 

And was on paine of death prohibited 

To crosse the Seas, or to repasse the Tweede. 

As the "Great Assizes" has been misunderstood hitherto, 
and the present writer has made a study of the first fifty years 
of English newspapers in the British Museum for historical 
purposes, he thinks it well to make the foregoing extracts to 
disclose its scope and wit, though his sole purpose in speaking 
of it is to show how highly the poetical genius of Bacon was 
regarded by his contemporaries. 



X 

THE ROSE CROSS 

Much has been said of Bacon's connection with that influ- 
ential Society which flourished in England in the reigns of 
Elizabeth and James, known as "Rosicrucian," whose very- 
existence was so carefully concealed that few outside of its 
fellowship knew of its existence. At what date in the world's 
history it originated we will hardly venture to inquire; it is 
sufficient to our purpose that the public announcement of its 
existence occurred in 1614, when was published in Cassel the 
"Allgemeine und General-Reformation der ganzen weiten 
Welt." This work declares that it was first formed 

By four persons only, and by them was made the magical lan- 
guage and writing, with a large dictionary, which we yet daily 
use to God's praise and glory. 

Says Mackey: — 

Many writers have sought to discover a close connection be- 
tween the Roslcrucians and the Freemasons, and some, indeed, 
have advanced the theory that the latter are only the successors 
of the former. Whether this opinion be correct or not, there are 
sufficient coincidences of character between the two to render 
the history of Rosicrucianism highly interesting to the Masonic 
student.^ 

In England, there still exists a society of Rosicrucians which 
was "founded upon the remains of the old German associa- 
tion." We are told that 

Modern times have eagerly accepted, in the full light of science, 
the precious Inheritance of knowledge bequeathed by the Rosi- 
crucians. ... It is not desirable, in a work of this kind, to make 

^ Albert G. Mackey, An Encyclopedia of Freemasonry, vol. ii, p. 639. New 
York, 1912. 



THE ROSE CROSS 

disclosures of an indiscreet nature. The Brethren of the Rosy 
Cross will never and should not, at peril and under alarm, give 
up their secrets. This ancient body has apparently disappeared 
from the field of human activity, hut its labors are being carried on 
with alacrity, and with a sure delight in an ultimate success.-^ 

Among the members of the ancient Society appear these 
initials, "Era. E. B., M. P. A.," which, plainly stated, stand 
for Erancis Bacon, Magister, Pictor, Architectus. Waite, per- 
haps the best historian of the Rosicruclan Order, introduces 
it to us in these words : — 

Beneath the broad tide of human history there flow the stealthy 
undercurrents of the secret societies which frequently determine 
in the depths the changes that take place upon the surface. The 
facts and documents concerning the Fraternity of the Rose Cross 
are absolutely unknown to English readers. Even well-informed 
people will learn with astonishment the extent and variety of 
the Rosicrucian literature, which hitherto has lain buried in rare 
pamphlets, written in the old German tongue, and in the Latin 
commentaries of the later alchemists. 

Says Heckthorne : — 

A halo of poetic splendour surrounds the Order of the Rosi- 
crucians; the magic lights of fancy play round their graceful day 
dreams, while the mystery in which they shrouded themselves 
lends additional attraction to their history. But their brilliancy 
was that of a meteor. The literature of every European country 
contains hundreds of pleasing fictions, whose machinery has 
been borrowed from their system of philosophy, though that 
itself has passed away.^ 

The writer has long been a member of the Masonic order of 
the Red Cross, which is popularly supposed to have inherited 
its title from the Rosicrucian Brotherhood, a supposition which, 
having a knowledge of the history of this and other societies 
akin to Masonry, he believes to be of doubtful validity. 

The title of the Brotherhood Is derived from Rosa-Crux, a 

* Royal Masonic Cyclopeedia. London, 1877. 

* C. W. Heckthorne, Secret Societies in All Ages and Countries. London, 1897. 

393 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

red rose affixed to a cross, presumably of gold. So many intel- 
lectual subtleties have been employed by fanciful theorists in 
attempts to explain the precise signification of these ancient 
symbols, believed to be older than the Christian era, that 
their more obvious and truer significance has been unneces- 
sarily obscured. To the Rosicrucians of the age of Elizabeth, 
it hardly seems questionable that the rose was the symbol of 
silence, as among the ancients it was originally derived from 
the pagan tradition that the God of Love made the first rose, 
which he presented to the God of Silence. From this tradi- 
tion originated the custom of carving a rose on the ceilings 
of banquet halls, or rooms where people met for gayety and 
diversion, to intimate that under it whatever was spoken or 
done was not to be divulged; hence our term suh rosa used 
to indicate secrecy. The Cross, of course, signified salvation, 
to which the Society of the Rose-Cross devoted itself by teach- 
ing mankind the love of God and the beauty of brotherhood, 
with all that they implied. 

The following has been recognized as having been written 
by Bacon, and will not be doubted by any acquainted inti- 
mately with his style : — 

/ was twenty when this book was finished ; but methinks I have 
outlived myself; I begin to be weary of the sun. I have shaken 
hands with delight, and know all is vanity, and I think no man 
cap live well once but he that could live twice. For my part I 
would not live over my hours past, or begin again the minutes of 
my days; not because I have not lived well, but for fear that I 
should live them worse. At my death I mean to make a total 
adieu of the world, not caring for the burthen of a tombstone and 
epitaph, but in the universal Register of God I fix my contempla- 
tions on Heaven. I writ the Rosicrucian Infallible Axiomata in 
four books, and study, not for my own sake only, but for theirs 
that study not for themselves. In the law I began to be a perfect 
clerk; I writ the Idea of the Law, etc., for the benefit of my friends, 
and practice In King's Bench. ^ I envy no man that knows more 

^ The reader is referred to Bacon's Historia Fitce et Mortis, and legal writings, 
including the Attorney's Academy. 

394 



THE ROSE CROSS 

than myself, but pity them that know less . . . Now, in the 
midst of all my endeavours there is but one thought that dejects 
me, that my acquired parts must perish with myself, nor can be 
legacied amongst my dearly beloved and honoured friends. 

The striking phrase, "I begin to be weary of the sun," is 
duplicated in "Macbeth," v, 5: "I 'gin to be a weary of the 
sun." 

We would gladly indulge in a more comprehensive exposi- 
tion of this interesting fraternity were it not necessary to limit 
ourselves to a single member of it, Francis Bacon, its putative 
head in England, though Robert Fludd, whom Waite de- 
scribes as " the great English mystical philosopher of the seven- 
teenth century, a man of immense erudition, of exalted mind, 
and, to judge by his writings, of extreme personal sanctity," ^ 
was its chief exponent. Of course he was a friend of Bacon, if 
the latter belonged to the English fraternity, and so must have 
been Maier, the chief among German writers of the order, 
who was also in England the year of the actor's death, and 
Bringern, another associate with him in upholding the honor 
of Rosicrucianism on the Continent. It is to this association 
that we desire to call especial attention. 

In 1617, a year after the death of the Stratford actor, Fludd 
was in Frankfort engaged in seeing his " Defence of Rosicru- 
cianism" through the press. At the same time Bringern was 
printing the "Fama Fraternitatis." In this work appears, on 
pages 52 and 53, the following: — 

We must earnestly admonish you that you cast away, if not 
all, yet most of the worthless books of pseudo chymists ^ to whom 
it is a jest to apply the Most Holy Trinity to vain things, or to 
deceive men with monstrous symbols and enigmas, or to profit 
by the curiosity of the credulous; our age doth produce many 
such, one of the greatest being a stage player, a man with suffi- 
cient ingenuity for imposition; such doth the enemy of human 
welfare mingle among the good seed, thereby to make the truth 

* A. S. Waite, The Real History of the Rosicrucians, p. 283. London, 1887. 
2 The term "chymist" used figuratively signified poets or romancists. 

395 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

more difficult to be believed, which In herself Is simple and naked, 
while falsehood Is proud, haughty, and colored with a lustre of 
seemingly godly and humane wisdom. Ye that are wise eschew 
such books and have recourse to us, who seek not your moneys, 
but offer unto you our great treasures. 

The allusion is evidently to the Stratford actor, for the 
plays, as well as Bacon's other works, are saturated with 
Rosicrucian thought. Dr. Ingleby should include it in a new 
edition of his "Allusions." Certainly it is much clearer than 
many he has published. But further to identify the actor 
with the titles "false poet" and "stage player" we will call 
attention to a method which these literary bo-peeps had of 
revealing their meaning to the initiated. If they wished to 
inform their reader who a person alluded to was, they placed 
the allusion on a page the number of which corresponded to 
the number by which he was known, or to the date of some 
well-known event connected with him. This allusion was 
placed on pages 52 and 53 ; the first to indicate the age of the 
"false poet and stage player," which was 52, and the second 
to show the relation between him and Bacon, whose number, 
as we shall see later, was 53. 

It may be asked, why did a member of the Brotherhood 
and friend of Bacon speak of the plays in this manner if he 
knew they were the work of a good Rosicrucian ? It should 
be understood that in the Brotherhood the largest liberty of 
expression was allowed, and that many, especially those who 
were of Puritan extraction, looked upon the stage with abhor- 
rence. Bringern was among these, and took this way of ex- 
pressing his disapproval of mingling things sacred and profane. 
He was occupied, as so many are even in our day, with meth- 
ods of reform, while Bacon was looking to results. 

The Rose-Cross order is greatly misunderstood. Writers 
upon the subject have permitted themselves to be led aside 
from the motive which vitalized it, and have been hoodwinked 
by its mysteries, as though it exalted mystery above faith, 

396 



THE ROSE CROSS 

the shadow above the substance, paying scant heed to the 
patent fact, that secrecy was its only safeguard against rack 
and thumbscrew. It was not a searcher for gold, but a Chris- 
tian organization composed of studious and thoughtful men, 
impressed by the mysteries amidst which the Creator had 
placed them, and -which Science and Philosophy have ever 
been striving to solve. They were mystical, — how could 
they be otherwise .? — and were regarded as heretics, or free- 
thinkers, then synonymous terms, though now they would be 
called conservative, for history teaches that the error of one 
age may be the truth of a later one. 

There were many in Elizabeth's reign who chafed at the 
restrictions, and abhorred the obsequious attitude which 
place and power imposed upon them; but though the Ad- 
vancement of Learning was the corner-stone of their temple, 
they naturally differed as to methods of advancement. Some 
among them, like Bacon, found in Poetry and Romance the 
most convenient vehicles for delivering to the world, either by 
means of the printed page or the living drama, the truths they 
so ardently desired it to possess. The influence of these upon 
the literature of the Elizabethan age is evident, and if it is true 
that the caged bird sings sweeter than the free, the saying 
may furnish a reason for its matchless charm. To the mind 
of the writer, Swedenborg's ethically religious system, which 
makes the dual precepts, love to God and love to man, its 
essence, quite faithfully expresses that of the Rosicrucians. 
To love God and man sufficiently to serve both to the best of 
their ability was their religion, and realizing the wickedness 
about them, they undertook a crusade of education to lead 
men to a recognition of their duty to God and their fellows, the 
"Universal Reformation of the Whole Wide World." These 
mysteries were simply cloaks to protect them from danger, 
not, it is true, of modern style, though fantastic garb is still 
all too much in evidence in the world ; for then. Religion and 
even Science sported strange attire, and they naturally reflect 

397 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

the fashion of their time. It was an age of isms in which men 
flung loose the jesses of Fancy, and soared aimlessly amid the 
drifting clouds of fiction, or were ensnared in the toils of super- 
stition ; an age in which men mad with the lust of power crushed 
with mailed heel those whose helplessness should have been 
their protection. But in no age has God been without faith- 
ful witnesses, who, braving the terrors of torture and death, 
were ready to give their lives to the emancipation of their 
fellow-men, and it was among such that Rosicrucianism found 
a proper field for its activities. 

Unless we pay less attention to the peculiarities of their 
outward habiliments, and more to them as men, living the 
common life, and sharing the common aspirations of thinking 
and well-meaning mortals, we shall fail to understand them. 

It is interesting to note that the Rosicrucian Brotherhood 
especially flourished in England during Bacon's life, and that 
its existence was not made known to the world, and then on 
the Continent, until the year of the actor's death. We have 
already spoken of Maier, the Rosicrucian Protagonist, and of 
his sojourn in England. Returning to Frankfort, he published 
in September, 1616, five months after the actor's death, three 
works, one being his "Lusus Serius," which he dedicated to 
a triumvirate of Rosicrucians, at whose head appeared Don 
Francisco Antonio, Londin, Anglo, Seniori. This combination 
of the names of Francis and Anthony, the latter of whom had 
been dead fifteen years, was, of course, understood by the 
Brotherhood, among whom such books only found readers. 
To have dedicated it openly to Francis Bacon might have at- 
tracted unpleasant attention, if, by chance, it fell under the 
eye of any but a friend, though at this time, while it might have 
been injurious, it might not have been dangerous if it had 
been known that he was a member of the Brotherhood. It is 
suggestive to note that in his book Maier gives us a paraphrase 
of the story of Christopher Sly in the "Taming of the Shrew," 
which he uses to point a moral. Maier concludes the story by 

398 



THE ROSE CROSS 

restoring the poor sot to his former condition, while in the play 
he is left unrestored. 

This story of Sly, Wigston interprets as showing the rela- 
tion between the actor and Bacon, the former representing 
"a man of low extraction, set up like a nobleman by Bacon in 
his own place with regard to plays or players." ^ 

It is certainly suggestive that Sly, in the "Taming of the 
Shrew," remains unrestored to his former condition, as if to 
suggest that the joke of the actor's false role on the stage of 
literature was to go on while it continued to amuse the world. 
The story of Sly is in the Quarto of 1594. It is worth notic- 
ing that parts of the play are duplicated in Tamburlaine and 
Faustus, whose assumed author died in 1593. 

When we come to the consideration of Symbolism, we shall 
learn more of the secret methods employed by Rosicrucians 
for conveying information, though many of them may never 
be fully disclosed. It should be noted that the stronghold of 
the Brotherhold was in England, and that its period of great- 
est influence was during Bacon's life. 

Of the fact that Bacon was a Rosicrucian, Spedding, in his 
preface to "The New Atlantis," shows himself to have been 
entirely oblivious. Had he known this, John Heydon's "Voy- 
age to the Land of the Rosicrucians" would have opened to 
him a line of thought which would have greatly enlightened 
him, for Heydon's "Voyage," largely word for word the same, 
would have revealed to him a secret which would have en- 
abled him to understand many passages in his author's works 
over which he puzzled in vain. "The New Atlantis" was pub- 
lished in 1627, after Bacon's death, by Rawley, his executor, 
in connection with the "Sylva Sylvarum," as Bacon "de- 
signed," says Spedding, and "Solomon's House," or "The 
Temple of Wisdom" — as Heydon has it — "is nothing more 

* Maier's paraphrase, under the title of the Waking Man's Dream, may be 
found in the Shakespeare Library of Hazlitt. Cf. Francis Bacon, etc., versus 
Phantom Captain Shakespeare, etc., p. xxxii et seq. London, 189 1. 

399 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

than a vision of the practical results which he anticipated 
from the study of natural history diligently and systematically 
carried on through successive generations," and that "of it 
he has told us all that he was yet qualified to tell." ^ 

Talbot, Heydon's biographer, gives the date of his birth as 
1630, four years after Bacon's death. He represents him as a 
great traveler, and a man of high character. How came he to 
use almost the same description of his penetration into the 
riddle land of Rosicrucianism that Bacon used in his "fable," 
which Rawley says "he devised to the end that he might 
exhibit therein a model or description of a college instituted 
for the interpreting of nature, and the production of great 
and marvelous works for the benefit of men, under the 
name of Solom^on's House, or the College of the Six Days' 
Works"? A fair answer seems to be that Bacon used a 
sketch for his "Atlantis" familiar to the Hermetic Brother- 
hood, which was limned by him as its head, to exhibit what 
might be accomplished by wise means for the regeneration 
of society, making some minor changes to adapt it to a new 
purpose, and that Heydon, who was a Rosicrucian, unaware 
of the existence of Bacon's "Atlantis," preserved for the 
world the original or an accurate copy of it. It is, however, 
as reasonable to suppose that Heydon becoming acquainted 
with the "Atlantis," in his admiration of a work in which he 
discerned the embodiment of the Rosicrucian spirit, adopted 
it as an exposition of the beauty and strength of the Holy 
House. 

In commenting upon Bacon's "Atlantis," Spedding justly 
says : — 

Perhaps there is no single work of his which has so much of him- 
self in it. The description of Solomon's House is the description 
of the vision in which he lived — the vision not of an ideal world 
released from the natural conditions to which ours is subject, 
but of our own world as it might be made if we did our duty by 

^ Spedding, preface to The New Atlantis, The Works, etc., vol. v, p. 349. 

400 



THE ROSE CROSS 

it; of a state of things which he believed would one day be actu- 
ally seen upon this earth, such as it is, by men such as we are, 
and the coming of which he believed that his own labors were 
sensibly hastening.^ 

Before dismissing this phase of our subject, let us compare 
extracts from the "Atlantis" and Heydon's "Voyage." 

A study of the two books from which these few and brief 
extracts are made, in connection with the works of Waite, Wig- 
ston, and Hargrave Jennings on the Rosicrucians, opens to 
us a realm of thought to which so many of us in our less tram- 
meled age are oblivious, and helps in blazing a way to a con- 
ception of what has seemed to us a fantastic and futile method 
for one of the greatest intellects which the world has known, 
to employ in playing his role on the human stage. This con- 
ception is reached when we clearly understand that Rosicru- 
cianism meant in the seventeenth century the universal bro- 
therhood of humanity; that it was a society closely allied to 
Freemasonry; derived its cult through the same channels from 
the same event — the building of Solomon's House; employed 
the same symbols, and that the Invisibles, as the Rosicrucians 
entitled themselves, worked by hidden ways to bring about 
their proposed reformation of society, and found that the field 
of literature afforded sure and safe highways to human minds 
— the highways of Philosophy, Science, and History; Poetry, 
Romance, and Drama; reached in the one instance by different 
paths of abstract thought, experiment, analysis, and compari- 
son ; in the other by the more alluring byways of imagination 
and fancy. Reaching this conception, a comprehension of 
Bacon's literary methods, and even of the cipher mystery, 
becomes less difficult; in fact, difficulties quite vanish when 
one reflects that the reformer of our day works in the same 
way, and uses the same means that the Invisibles did, but 
with this difference, that he labors in the sunshine of hope, 
while they wrought in the shadow of fear. 

' Spedding, preface to The New Atlantis, The Works, etc., vol. v, p. 351. 

401 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

From " The New Atlantis'': — 

The Father of the Family, whom they call the Tlrsan, two days 
before the feast, taketh to him three of such friends as he liketh 
to choose; and is assisted also by the governor of the city or place 
where the feast is celebrated; and all the persons of the family, 
of both sexes, are summoned to attend him. These two days the 
Tirsan sitteth in consultation concerning the good estate of the 
family. Then, if there be any discord or suits between any of 
the family, they are compounded and appeased. 

From HeydorCs " Voyage to the Land of the Rosicrucians'': — 
The Father of the fraternity, whom they call the R.C., two 
days before the feast taketh to him three of such friends as he 
liketh to chuse, and is assisted also by the governour of the city 
where the feast is celebrated, and all the persons of the family, of 
both sexes, are summoned to attend upon him. Then, if there 
be any discords or suits, they are compounded and appeased. 

From " The New Atlantis'': — 
And as we were thus in conference, there came one that seemed 
to be a messenger, in a rich huke, that spake with the Jew; where- 
upon he turned to me and said: "You will pardon me, for I am 
commanded away in haste." The next morning he came to me 
again, joyful as it seemed, and said, "There is word come to the 
governor of the city, that one of the Fathers of Salomon's House 
will be here this day seven-night: we have seen none of them this 
dozen years. His coming is in state; but the cause of his coming 
is secret. I will provide you and your fellows of a good standing 
to see his entry." I thanked him, and told him, I was most glad 
of the news. 

From Hey don's " Voyage to the Land of the Rosicrucians" : — 
As we were thus in conference, there came one that seemed to 
be a messenger, in a rich huke, that spake with the Jew, where- 
upon he turned to me and said, "You will pardon me, for I am 
commanded away in haste." The next morning he came to me 
joyfulle, and said — "There Is word come to the Governour of the 
city that one of the Fathers of the Temple of the Rosie Crosse, 
or Holy House, will be here this day seven-night. We have 
seen none of them this dozen years. His coming Is In state, but 
the cause is secret. I will provide you and your fellows of a good 
standing to see his entry." I thanked him and said I was most 
glad of the news. 

402 



THE ROSE CROSS 

From " The New Atlantis'''' : — 

God bless thee, my son; I will give thee the greatest jewel I 
have. For I will impart unto thee, for the love of God and men, a 
relation of the true state of Salomon's House. Son, to make you 
know the true state of Salomon's House, I will keep this order. 
First, I will set forth unto you the end of our foundation. Sec- 
ondly, the preparations and instruments we have for our works. 
Thirdly, the several employments and functions whereto our 
fellows are assigned. And fourthly, the ordinances and rites 
which we observe. 

The End of our Foundation is the knowledge of Causes, and 
secret motions of things; and the enlarging of the bounds of 
Human Empire, to the effecting of all things possible. 

From Hey doll's *' Voyage to the Land of the Rosicrucians^' : — 
God bless thee, my son; I will give thee the greatest jewel I 
have; I will impart unto thee, for the love of God and men, a 
relation of the true state of the Rosie Crosse. First, I will set 
forth the end of our foundation; secondly, the preparations and 
instruments we have for our workes; thirdly, the several func- 
tions whereto our fellows are assigned; and fourthly, the ordi- 
nances and rights which we observe. The end of our founda- 
tion is the knowledge of causes and secret motion of things, and 
the enlarging of the bounds of Kingdomes to the effecting of all 
things possible. 

That the order of the Rose-Cross was a Christian organiza- 
tion these extracts from the Rosicrucian prayer alone prove : — • 

Jesus Mihi Omnia 
Oh Thou everywhere and good of all, whatsoever I do remem- 
ber, I beseech Thee, that I am but dust, but as a vapour sprung 
from earth, which even Thy smallest breath can scatter. Thou 
hast given me a soul and laws to govern it; let that fraternal rule 
which Thou didst first appoint to sway man order me; make me 
careful to point at Thy glory in all my wayes, and where I can- 
not rightly know Thee, that not only my understanding but my 
Ignorance may honour Thee — I cast myself as an honourer of 
Thee at Thy feet, and because I cannot be defended by Thee 
unless I believe after Thy laws, keep me, O my soul's Soveraign, 
in the obedience of Thy will, and that I wound not conscience 
with vice and hiding Thy gifts and graces bestowed upon me, 

403 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

for this, I know, will destroy me within, and make Thy illuminat- 
ing Spirit leave me. I am afraid I have already infinitely swerved 
from the revelations of that Divine Guide which Thou hast com- 
manded to direct me to the truth, and for this I am a sad pros- 
trate and penitent at the foot of Thy throne. I appeal only to 
the abundance of Thy remissions, O God, my God. For outward 
things I thank thee, and such as I have I give unto others, in the 
name of the Trinity, freely and faithfully. ... In what Thou 
hast given me I am content — I beg no more than Thou hast 
given, and that to continue me uncontemnedly and unpittiedly 
honest. Take me from myself and fill me but with Thee. Sum 
up Thy blessings in these two, that I may be rightly good and 
wise, and these, for Thy eternal truth's sake, grant and make 
grateful.^ 

If the reader will compare this prayer with the acknowl- 
edged and unquestioned prayers of Francis Bacon, we are 
confident that he will not doubt that this is the coinage of the 
same brain and the expression of the same heart. 

^ Waite, The Real History, etc., pp. 444-61. 



XI 

SYMBOLISM 

It would not be amiss to denominate our era, the Age of 
Unveiling. Men have become impatient of everything which 
conceals from them the inscrutable face of Truth, but could 
they behold it in its nakedness, it would appeal to them far 
less forcibly than it did when they beheld it through the veils 
of symbolism. The actor on the Hellenic stage, who assumed 
the character of the divine Zeus, was wise in speaking through 
the persona which symbolized the great deity, for by so doing 
he greatly enhanced the impression which he made upon the 
imagination of his auditors. The modern man contemptu- 
ously ignores ancient symbolism, but strangely enough is be- 
trayed into employing a fantastic substitute. Take this pas- 
sage for illustration, and volumes of a similar nature are being 
published: "We wander in the mazes of neo-psychological 
empiricism, and lose ourselves in the mists of subliminal con- 
sciousness." These wordy words, masking as they do certain 
elusive conceptions, appeal, no doubt, to some minds, espe- 
cially to untrained ones, with a force which their translation 
into words of plain meaning would fail to exert. Their writer, 
perhaps, knew that he would fail sufficiently to impress the 
mind of his reader if he said, — "We are perplexed by the 
confusions of modern spiritism, and befogged in trying to get 
beyond the limits of consciousness": hence he embodied his 
thoughts in less restricted terms, intended to be more sugges- 
tive to the imagination than commoner ones, a method far 
less fruitful in results than that employed by the old symbol- 
ists. 

Symbolism is to-day receiving the earnest investigation of 
scholars. Important works upon the subject have been writ- 

40s 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

ten, which reveal its influence upon the intellectual life of the 
past, and demand the attention of the student of history. 
That the subject is of deep interest is evinced by the collections 
in Hbraries of works relating to it ; the Boston Public Library 
alone having no less than fifty-one titles of works, ancient and 
modern, treating of the history and use of symbolical em- 
blems, which Bacon declares reduce " conceits intellectual to 
images sensible." Naturally in our freer and more practical 
age, we are wont to regard these once precious figures as fan- 
ciful and childish, yet they are instinct with the heart-beats 
of once living men, which could we hear would tell us of strug- 
gles and sufferings and hopes like our own. 

We are apt to forget that symbolism is vital to intelligent 
speech, that we cannot express a thought without the use of 
a symbol. Symbolism in the form of pictorial emblems was 
especially dear to the hearts of men of the past with whom it 
partially assumed the place of a common language. We pro- 
pose to deal in a very brief manner with but a few forms of 
cryptic emblems found in water-marks, printed head- and 
tail-pieces, and on title-pages. 

WATER-MARKS 

The manufacture of paper in Europe seems to have been 
fostered especially by the "Albigenses," as they were known 
in France and Spain, or "Waldenses" in the Alpine provinces, 
one of the purest of Christian brotherhoods appearing in 
history, as well as the most unfortunate. Claiming to be direct 
descendants of the early disciples who secluded themselves 
in the Alpine valleys to escape the fury of Nero and Diocle- 
tian, their aim was to exemplify in their own lives the simple 
truths taught by Christ, and to extend their benefits to others. 
The Italians called them "Cathari," signifying the pure. They 
were altruists in the highest sense of the term, making indus- 
try and usefulness to fellow-men inseparable rules of life. Had 
the crusades been successful they aspired to establish their 

406 



SYMBOLISM 

faith, which they conceived had come down to them from 
Jerusalem, in the city where it originated. Naturally they 
came into conflict with ecclesiastical power, and, in the end, 
were virtually exterminated. In the sack of Beziers alone it 
is said that twenty thousand of the people were put to death, 
and that when the Abbot of Citeaux was asked how to dis- 
tinguish the heretic from the faithful, his reply was, " Kill 
them all, God will know his own." 

In 154s, Francis I destroyed twenty-two of their villages 
and massacred four thousand persons, and as late as 1655, so 
brutal were their persecutors that Milton was moved to write 
his familiar poem, "Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughtered saints." 
Some who escaped reached England and northern Europe, 
where, being expert paper-makers, they practiced their art. 
Here more remote from the central fires of persecution, and 
scattered among busy communities, they escaped the sharp 
scrutiny of the ecclesiastical authorities, and lived in greater 
security, spreading silently the tenets of their faith abroad, 
thereby preparing the ground for the coming Reformation 
from which they hoped great things. But the reformation of 
humanity is not of mushroom growth, but of slow develop- 
ment. We speak of the Reformation and the Renaissance as 
though they were compassed by narrow and well-defined lines, 
but they are only convenient terms incapable of exact delimi- 
tation. 

The Reformation came and disappointed them. For social 
reformation expands in perfection as slowly as the human 
hearts inwhich it finds its roots. They had been deceived in the 
heaven they expected on earth by a change in outward forms 
and observances, and soon found that they had only exchanged 
masters. Had the old rulers possessed but a remnant of that 
heavenly wisdom which they had received, and, cherishing it 
as a pearl beyond price, had led men with a gentle but firm 
hand, instead of driving thousands of their most industrious 
and well-intentioned subjects to death, — for Torquemada 

407 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

alone, according to official reports, burned alive 10,220 human 
beings, and inflicted upon 97,321 the penalty of infamy, con- 
fiscation, and imprisonment, the horrors of which are too pain- 
ful to read, — they would have continued to rule the world ; 
or had the new rulers profited by the mistakes of their pred- 
ecessors, their cause would have flourished beyond their 
brightest expectations; but, says Beard, "We are obliged to 
confess that especially in Germany it [the new order] soon 
parted company with free learning, that it turned its back 
upon culture, that it lost itself in a maze of arid theological 
controvers}^, that it held out no hand to awakening science."^ 
Even Luther declared that when all men possessed the Bible 
no more books would be written, for that would be enough. 
Nor did the destruction of human beings cease, for, says Bay- 
ley, " the atrocities of witch-hunting ran the Inquisition very 
close." ^ "In many cities of Germany the average number of 
executions for this pretended crime was six hundred annually,"^ 
and in England, in the reign of Elizabeth, thousands likewise 
perished, and can we believe that Bacon's "Advancement of 
Learning" was denounced as heretical and impertinent, and 
placed on the Index Librorum Prohibitorum ? Says Bayley, 
"A list of English writers who suffered from the baleful effects 
of Government repression — would include the names of prac- 
tically all our great writers until the concluding years of the 
seventeenth century." * 

To return to the Albigenses : to them is attributed the use of 
water-marks in paper. These marks exhibit a great variety 
of forms of rude design.^ Among them we shall note the chal- 

^ C. Beard, B.A., The Reformation of the Sixteenth Century in its Relation to 
Modern Thotight and Knozvledge, p. 2gS. London, 1897. Cf. Heckthorne, S^fr^i 
Societies, etc. 

2 Harold Bayley, J New Light on the Renaissance, etc., p. 131;. London. 1911. 

^ Charles Mackay, Memoirs of Extraordinary Popular Delusions, vol. 11, 
p. 102. London, 1869. 

* Bayley, A New Light, etc., p. 209. 

^ C. M. Briquet, Les Filigranes; Dictionnaire Historique des Marques du 
Papier. London, 1908. 

408 



SYMBOLISM 



ice, or "pot," as it was vulgarly called, which represented the 
Holy Grail, from which Christ drank at the Last Supper ; the 
cluster of grapes, signifying spiritual truth ; the double candle- 
sticks, bearers of light to dispel the darkness of error; the 
crescent, symbol of faith ; the bugle, to proclaim the gospels 
to mankind; the hand, signifying, when upright, industry; 
reversed, benediction; the crown, victory. Even instruments 
of torture were represented. Combined with these were letters 
often reversed or diagonally placed, and other peculiarities, 
the significance of which is lost, but which once were preg- 
nant with meaning, for the emblem of which they were a part 
served as a vehicle of thought, "A silent parable," as Quarles 
defines it, in an age when an open expression of opinion, not 
consonant with that of the ruling power, was a challenge to 
death. Of their use, Bayley says: — 

It seems to have been a happy thought on the part of the paper- 
makers to flash signals of hope and encouragement to their fellow- 
exiles in far distant countries, serving at the same time as an in- 
centive to faith, and godliness in themselves.^ 

We see, then, that anciently water-marks in paper were not 
simply trade-marks as they are now; indeed, investigation 
shows that they were 
used not only in a spe- 
cial way in books, but 
by individuals in their 
private correspondence. 
The Bacon family seem 
to have held them in 
especial favor prior even 
to the reign of Eliza- 
beth, their favorite mark 
being the grail, or pot, 
sometimes bearing the initials of the writer. Francis and 
Anthony used this device, as their letters show. Several other 

^ Harold Bayley, A New Light, etc., p. 40. 
409 






PAPER MARKS USED BY NICHOLAS, ANTHONY 
AND FRANCIS BACON 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

symbols appear in the works of Francis, some used by his 
faithful friend, Rawley, after his death. In his "Advancement 
of Learning" of 1605, he uses clusters of grapes. Such clus- 
ters are found in the "Shakespeare" Folios of 1623, and in 
1632, though printed by different printers. Of their signifi- 
cation Bacon thus speaks: — 

Other men, as well in ancient as in modern times, have in the 
matter of sciences drunk a crude liquor like water, either flow- 
ing spontaneously from the understanding, or drawn up by logic, 
as by wheels from a well. Whereas I pledge mankind in a liquor 
strained from countless grapes, from grapes ripe and fully sea- 
soned, collected in clusters, and then squeezed in the press, and 
finally purified and clarified in the vat. And therefore it is no 
wonder if they and I do not think alike. -^ 

Besides the pot the Bacons used the crescent, fleur-de-lis, 
double candlesticks, a hand, horns, a shield, and a mirror. 
It is proper to say that these were sometimes of ancient date, 
were varied in form, and combined with other symbolic fig- 
ures according to the fancy of those who used them, and it 
seems probable were not always used with design. The pres- 
ent writer, who some time ago made a study of the so-called 
"Merchant Marks," — which are supposed to have originated 
during the crusades,^ — has found numerous instances in 
which these curious cross-emblems, no doubt handed down 
by crusading ancestors, are combined with the shield, bugle, 
and crown, as well as with various other emblematic forms, by 
their descendants, and used in their water-marks. It is inter- 
esting to note some of the works, not published under Bacon's 
name, in which cryptic emblems used by him appear. 

In the First Folio of the " Shakespeare " plays appear crowns, 
clusters of grapes, the fleur-de-lis, and, in the Second Folio, 
one like that in Bacon's "History of Life and Death." In 
Marlowe's works, published in 1613, twenty-one years after his 

^ Spedding, Novum Organum, vol. viii, p. 155. 
2 The Trelawny Papers, p. 472. Portland, 1884. 

410 



SYMBOLISM 

death, the water-marks comprise bar and grapes — the same 
as in the "Shakespeare" Folio of 1623, except a change in 
letters; — the pot, hand, crown, and crescent. 

Ireland tells us that in preparing his forgeries he at 
length gleaned the intelligence that a jug was the prevalent 
water-mark of the reign of Elizabeth ; 

In consequence of which I inspected all the sheets of old paper 
in my possession, and having selected such as had the jug upon 
them, I produced the succeeding manuscripts upon these, being 
careful, however, to mingle with them a certain number of blank 
leaves, that the production on a sudden of so many water- 
marks might not excite suspicion in the breasts of those per- 
sons who were most conversant with the manuscripts. 

The most striking water-marks, however, appear in " Spen- 
ser's " "Faerie Queene" of 1596. Here are the pot and grapes 
of Bacon, the F. B. reversed: B, and A. B. All this is curiously 
suggestive, but, unfortunately, in our present state of knowl- 
edge regarding symbolical emblems, it is unsafe to base theo- 
ries upon them. 

CRYPTOGRAMS 

Like paper marks were the head-pieces and colophons which 
embellished the books of the sixteenth century; they were 
cryptic, and to the initiated revealed meanings which they 
regarded as verbi sapienti of deep significance. Note, for ex- 
ample, the squirrel and nut, used in more modern devices for 
mere ornament, which formerly suggested that the shell of 
the letter must be cracked to get at the precious kernel of 
truth within. 

We reproduce a cryptic device often found with some varia- 
tions in books of the sixteenth century and later. This head- 
piece comprises several emblems, the squirrel already men- 
tioned, and the light and dark A in whose sheltering curves 
recline the Asvins, two cherubic figures with a sheaf of wheat 
between them. These Asvins are said to signify the dualism 
of creative energy. 

411 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 




It is noticeable that the following device appears in the 




"Spenser" FoHo of 1611 and in the "Shakespeare" Folios 
of 1623 and 1632. 

We also reproduce a modification of the double A head-piece 
with some of the minor emblems, and the Asvins, or twin 
children as they are sometimes called, left out; the scrolls 
somewhat changed, and a vase of fruit, signifying plenty, sub- 
stituted for the wheat. This is the familiar head-piece found 




in the "Shakespeare" Quartos, and first appears in them on 
the title-page of the "Contention" of 1594, as it is here 
reproduced. The late Dr. Piatt saw in this modified form of 
the more ornate head-piece the name "F. Bacon." He points 
out that by turning the device upside down the left curve of 
the A^ which then appears at the right, appears to be a long/, 
a sprig forming the clavus ; that then turning it half round to 
the left, B is disclosed, and repeating this movement, A^ the 
left limb of which is a reversed C, which he says the old print- 

412 



SYMBOLISM 

ers used to Indicate the syllable con. This gives "F. Ba" or 
"F. Bacon." ^ Of course, treating an ancient symbolic group 
in the way seen In the head-piece would be a convenient way 
of concealing an author's name, and one which an Ingenious 
man might well adopt ; but we must not hastily accept Dr. 
Piatt's theory, though the name he shows us appears to be as 
plain as many of the concealed forms In a modern newspaper 
puzzle. 

If we discard the cryptic features of this head-piece alto- 
gether, the fact of Its careful use on the anonymous Quartos, 
and those bearing the name "Shakespeare," seem to Indicate 
that they were by one and the same author, who took pains 
to conceal his authorship of them from the world of his day, 
while leaving upon them a secret mark by which they might 
eventually be Identified. It Is doubtful If any one would claim 
that the Stratford actor could have done this. It Is certainly 
a suggestive fact that this head-piece was used In the " Shake- 
speare" Quartos from 1594 to 1609, as well as In the "Argenis," 
probably translated In 1623, and that the Quartos were printed 
by five rival houses, In some cases far removed In point of 
time from one another, which seems to Indicate a directing 
mind, and not mere coincidence. Of course this head-piece 
has attracted the attention of students, and Stratfordlans 
were delighted when It was found In a Latin book ^ bearing 
the date 1563, before Bacon was three years old. Strangely 
enough, the author. Porta, like Trithemlus, was a writer upon 
ciphers, and this book treats of the art of concealment. Mr. 
Smedley,^ however, who has made an exhaustive search to 
settle the question of the earliest use of this noted head-piece, 
has discovered that Porta's book was printed in London in 
1 59 1, and falsely dated 1563 so as to pass for the first edition, 
in which the head-piece does not appear. Mr. Smedley con- 

* Isaac Hull Piatt, Bacon Cryptograms, pp. 24. Boston, 1905. 

^ loan Baptista Porta, De Furtivis Literarum Notis Vulgo. Naples, mdlxiii. 

' William T. Smedley, The Mystery of Francis Bacon, p. 134. London, 1912. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

eludes "that Francis Bacon was directing the production of 
a great quantity of the Elizabethan literature, and in every 
book in the production of which he was interested, he caused 
to be inserted one of these devices. He kept the blocks in his 
own custody; he sent them out to a printer when a book was 
approved by him for printing. On the completion of the work, 
the printer returned the blocks to Bacon so that they could 
be sent elsewhere by him as occasion required"; and he gives 
a list of the works in which the favorite head-piece appears. ^ 
In a recent letter to the present writer Mr. Smedley says: — 

The earliest use of the design with a light A and dark A which 
I have found Is in a work entitled "Hebralcum Alphabethum Jo 
Bovlaese" published in Paris in 1576. The book ends with the 
sentence "Ex Colleglo Montls-Acuti 20 Decembris 1576." So 
the date of the publication was probably between January and 
March, 1576, which according to our present method would be 

1577. 
I have a copy of this work bound up with a book bearing the 

title "SIve compendium, quintacunque Ratlone fieri potult am- 
plesslmum, Totuls linguae," published in Paris, 1566. Both are 
interleaved and altered and amplified In Francis Bacon's hand- 
writing for a second edition. The latter contains the equivalent 
of the Hebrew In Greek, Chaldseic, Syrlac, and Arabic. So far I 
have been unable to find that a second edition of these works was 
published. But these manuscripts bear evidence of young Ba- 
con's command of languages in 1576. I believe that just as Philip 
Melancthon was working for Thomas Anshelmus, the Printer, 
when at Tubingen University at seventeen or eighteen years of 
age, so Francis Bacon was employed In Paris as early as 1576. 

This head-piece not only appears in the " Shakespeare" and 
Bacon Works, but those of Marlowe and Spenser, as well as 
the so-called King James version of the Bible. The King was 
inordinately proud of his knowledge of Latin, and the trans- 
lators, when they had completed their work, submitted it to 
him for criticism, and it remained in his possession for some 
time. Bacon was then high in his favor, and this has given 

' William T. Smedley, The Mystery of Francis Bacon, p. 139. 

414 



SYMBOLISM 




TIME REVEALING TRUTH 



rise to the opinion that, knowing his great literary ability, 
James might have employed him to go over the work of the 
translators with him. How 
much the work might have 
been revised is unknown, 
but whoever aided in the 
revision may have added 
many of the graces with 
which this remarkable pro- 
duction abounds. Cer- 
tainly the appearance of 
Bacon's cryptic mark 
could not fail to be notice- 
able In this book as in 
others, with some of which 
it is now known he had 
something to do. Attention was, of course, called to this, and 
has amused Stratfordians as much as some of their specula- 
tions have amused their opponents. 

That Bacon was associated with Baudoln In his book on 
Emblems ^ appears in the preface : — 

The great Chancellor, Bacon, having awakened in me the de- 
sire of working at these emblems, has furnished me the principal 
ones which I have drawn from the ingenious explanation that he 
has given of some fables, and from his other works. 

This same Baudoln translated Bacon's Essays into French 
in 1626. Mr. Smedley says: — 

The first volume of Emblemata in which traces of Bacon's hand 
are to be found is in the 1577 edition of Alciat's Emblems, pub- 
lished by the Plantin Press, with notes by Claude Mignault.- 

This edition bears the head-piece which we have been dis- 
cussing. 

^ Jean Baudoln, Recueil (TEmblemes. Paris, 1638. 

2 William T. Smedley, The Mystery of Francis Bacon, p. 141 et seq. Cf. Deal- 
ings with the Dead, Oliver Lector. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 



There are several other emblem books interesting to stu- 
dents of Bacon, one by Bonitius of 1659, which we have 
thus far been unable to consult, but there is not the least 
doubt that Bacon, among his many literary activities, was 
personally interested in the publication of a number of emblem 
books. In these we should expect to find emblems relating to 
him. We will produce but the following. 

In his "New Atlantis" published by Rawley a few months 
after his death, we find Time drawing from an open tomb a 
nude woman with the motto, "In time the hidden truth shall 
be revealed." This puts us in memory of the words of Raw- 
ley:— 

Be this moreover enough to have laid, as it were, the founda- 
tions, in the name of the present age. Every age will, methinks, 
adorn and amplify this structure, but to what age it may be 

vouchsafed to set 
the finishing hand 
— this is known 
only to God and 
the Fates. ^ 

This same fig- 
ure appears in a 
book which gives 
a history of the 
early years of the 
reign of King 
James I, and is 
entitled "Truth 
brought to Light 
and discovered 
by Time." 

In the following we see Fortune standing upon a sphere, 
and raising with her right hand to the pinnacle of Fame a fig- 
ure wearing the hat which distinguishes Bacon, as clearly as 

^ Manes Verulamiani, Introduction. London, 1626. 
416 




FORTUNE CASTING DOWN THE ACTOR 



SYMBOLISM 



the helmet does Pericles ; while with the other she casts down 
an actor wearing the equally distinguishing buskins. 

The "Minerva Britannia" of 1612 presents to us an equally 
revealing emblem. On the title-page appears an oval wreathed 
with laurel, and a Latin motto which, translated, is "One lives 
in his genius, other things depart in death," and opposite 
page °33, which is the numerical name of Bacon, "To the 
most judicious 
and learned Sir 
Francis Bacon, 
Knight." With- 
in the oval is 
the proscenium 
of a theater, 
the curtain sup- 
posed to con- 
ceal the figure 
of a man whose 
forearm only 
appears, the 
hand holding a 

pen with which it has written, " By the mind shall I be seen." 
This finds an echo in the "Attourney's Academy," dedi- 
cated "To True Nobility and Tryde learning beholden To 
no Mountaine for Eminence, nor supportment for Height. 
Francis Lord Verulam and Viscount St. Albans." 

O give me leave to pull the Curtayne by 
That clouds thy Worth in such obscurity. 
Stay Seneca, stay but awhile thy bleeding, 
T'accept what I received at thy Reading; 
Here I present it in a solemne strayne, 
And thus I pluckt the Curtayne backe again. 

We could show scores of similar emblems and many pages 
to illustrate Bacon's unwritten life, did space permit. A sin- 
gle contemporary allusion to the Stratford actor of equal sig- 

417 




THE CONCEALED DRAMATIC AUTHOR. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

nificance would be hailed as sufficient proof of his authorship 
of the immortal dramas. 

TITLE-PAGES 

Quite as interesting a use of cryptograms is found on title- 
pages. We will examine several the nieaning of which is too 
evident to mistake. 

The first title-page is of a book treating of cryptography, 
and the stenographic system of Trithemius, pseudonym of 
Gustavus Selenus, published at Lunenburg in 1624. The au- 
thor styles himself the Homo Lunae, or Man in the Moon. 
The book, however, was fathered by Augustus, Duke of Bruns- 
wick, whose directions to the engraver, transcripts of which 
the writer has found in several collections of literary material, 
are a curious example of the care exercised in having at hand, 
of easy access to the over-curious, a simple method of turning 
him aside, for the greatest minds of this age played with cryp- 
tograms, employing the most insignificant, and to us seemingly 
childish, devices in their game of hide-and-seek, to mislead 
the inexpert. In this case the engraver is told to show Trithe- 
mius at a table with a man lifting the philosopher's hat from 
his head. The man shown, however, is not Trithemius at all, 
but quite unlike him, as his portrait unmistakably reveals. 
The question is, why was this change? The most probable 
theory is that the directions were a simple exhibition of craft. 
It is just possible, of course, that the Duke, about to begin his 
book, consulted Bacon — the head of the secret brotherhood 
to which both belonged — upon the subject, and that he, see- 
ing in it one of those opportunities of which he had before 
availed himself, arranged to conceal in it the key to the First 
Folio, at that time in press. This would account more readily 
to the modern mind for the changes in the figures on the title- 
page, but a knowledge of the methods employed by the old 
cryptographers incline us to the view that the directions 
to the engraver were intended to be misleading. Mr. Bow- 

418 







iia' 






i.'r.M^'^e 



GUSTAVI Sel ENl 

CRYPTOME. 

NYTICES ETCRY 

PTOGR APHI/t 

Libri IX. 

In quibiis ^ plan)fima^ 
STEGANOGRAPHL^ 









l,l^Jrl_ 1 



^4-3 



^""^^^^^ ^^ 




SYMBOLISM 

ditch ^ seems to have first called attention to this book as an in- 
genious example of the cryptic art, and he points out the rela- 
tion which it holds to the Folio, giving examples of the skill of 
his friend, the late Samuel Cabot, based on a wide knowledge 
of ancient cryptographs, in discovering Bacon in the plays. 




^uarta Tabula •, ex Vlgenerio , pag. 202. b. 
nnndicat fibiprmpuum<i quod Vocalibm tanturtLs 
Jfcribere hie lie eat. 



THE CIPHER KEY 



That the Duke's book, and its pictorial title-page, disclose the 
true story of their authorship is certain. Even Bacon's cipher 
key is given in it, a fact of remarkable significance in itself. 
But still more so is the fact that the author dedicates it, as 
Maier dedicated his Rosicrucian book eight years earlier, to 
"Dr. Francisco, Antonio, London, Anglo, Seniori," which 
fully identifies Francis and Anthony Bacon, of London, Eng- 
land, though to the initiated Francis alone, as Anthony had 
then been dead twenty-three years. Besides, the author at the 

^ Charles P. Bowditch, The Connection of Francis Bacon with the First Folio 
of Shakespeare^ s Plays, etc., with the Book on Cipher of his Time. Cambridge, 
1910. 

419 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

outset calls attention to the well-known fact that Bacon as- 
sisted Camden in his historical work, and refers to that au- 
thor's "Remains," published in 1616, where, under the head 
"Surnames," page 16, appears a head-piece upside down, 
which would pass as an error were it not a well-known device 
to call attention to something concealed, a method, says Law- 
rence, "continually resorted to when some revelation concern- 
ing Bacon's works is given." Under this heading appear the 
names of a village which never existed, " Bacon Creping," and 
"Shakespeare, Shotbolt and Wagstafife." ^ This would sig- 
nify nothing but for this cryptic book, the title-page of which 
is here produced. This title-page especially appeals to us, for 
not only are the figures of the true and the false author plainly 
recognizable, but the same figures reappear on the title-page 
of Bacon's "History of Henry the Seventh" in 1642. These 
title-pages are here printed together for comparison. In the 
first of these, in the panel on the right, is the figure of a gentle- 
man, as he has a sword at his side, and wears a hat. He is giv- 
ing a book or manuscript to a rustic, with hat in hand, hold- 
ing a spear in his left hand. The rustic is seen alone walking 
off briskly with a staff, carrying his spear on his left shoulder 
with his "fardels on his back," and the book or writings en- 
trusted to him. Near the top of the panel is an eagle, the mes- 
senger of Jove, which has possessed itself of the writing en- 
trusted to the careless rustic, and is bearing it to immortality 
in spite of the bolt intended to arrest its flight.^ 

The figure of the gentleman is a suggestive likeness of 
Bacon with the conventional hat, and the rustic of the actor, 
whose face is unmistakably the one which was originally on 
his Stratford tomb. On the opposite panel he is seen on horse- 
back riding toward a city triumphantly blowing his horn. He 
is the same figure with the sprig in his hat, and the exagger- 
ated spur on the right heel of his buskin, for he is now a gen- 
tleman having a coat of arms. This buskin alone would iden- 

^ Bacon is Shakespeare, p. 114. * Bowditch mistakes the eagle for a dove. 

420 




I/VG BATAVOR. 
Apud Tranc . Hackium 



SYMBOLISM 

tify his calling. At the top of the picture in an oval panel is a 
city under a tempestuous sky at night, illuminated by numer- 
ous beacons. It is to be noted that in the reign of Elizabeth 
the letters ea in this word were given the sound of long a^ which 
led to a play upon Bacon's name, he being called "Bacon," 
the great " Beacon of the State." This panel is also decorated 
with conventional masks of Tragedy, Comedy, and Farce, 
which are quite out of place in a book of this character. In the 
lower panel the man who is seen giving the manuscript to the 
rustic appears seated at a table writing in a massive volume. 
The rustic, now arrayed in one of the "glaring Satten Sutes," 
ascribed to actors by the author of "The Return from Parnas- 
sus," holds a rope attached to the writer's girdle to show his 
subservience to him, and is lifting the heraldic Cap of Main- 
tenance from his superior's head, evidently to put this honor- 
able decoration upon his own. The Cap of Maintenance, 
symbol of nobility, was coveted by the gentry and was finally 
appropriated by them.^ 

A remarkable title-page is in the edition of Montaigne's 
Essays published in London in 1632. Montaigne was a friend 
of Bacon, who has been criticized for imitating him in some 
of his essays. The Frenchman's work was first published in 
Bordeaux in 1580, about the time that its author became 
mayor of that city. In 1601, John Florio, also a friend of Ba- 
con, translated it into English, and it became quite popular 
among the few who read such works. We are gravely told by 
a recent orthodox writer that "His essays were diligently read 
by Bacon and Shakespeare," presumably because the plays 
and Bacon's Essays are thought to reflect their influence. 
Florio, it should be remembered, translated Bacon's Essays 
into French. Let us examine this title-page: Looking at it 
we see on the right a broken arch, which is a reversed letter 
F: the two open arches in the background, a letter B, which 
is best seen by turning the page half to the right. We thus 

^ Century Dictionary, in loco. 
421 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

have the initials of Bacon's name. To make this still plainer, 
looking through the arch on the left we see in the distance a 
beacon. The letters are reversed, presumably to make the puz- 
zle more difficult to decipher. Of course, it might be claimed 
that the arches were so formed accidentally, but when we care- 
fully read a little poem appended to it, we find ourselves in- 
formed that each "leaf and angle" has a hidden meaning, and 

If then 
You understand not, give him room that can. 

To show Bacon's connection with Montaigne's " Essays, " 
we have two witnesses; his handwriting in the Bordeaux Mon- 
taigne of 1588 and the title-page to the English translation of 
1632. 

The question of what might have been Bacon's connec- 
tion with Montaigne's Essays has occasioned some discussion, 
but more speculation, especially stimulated by the cryptic 
title-page, which we have described. Professor Strowski^ has 
called attention to a copy of the 1588 edition of these Essays 
belonging to the city of Bordeaux, of which Montaigne was 
mayor for the period of four years previous to this date. This 
particular copy of this edition is copiously annotated on its 
"shining margents" and is "extended by the addition of a 
third book." In the Gournay edition of 1595, some of these 
notes were used, but until now they seem to have escaped 
critical examination. Mr. Smedley has called attention to one 
of these pages of which he says that "every word of writing . . . 
is from the hand of Francis Bacon." Latin, as in the case of 
Montaigne, was his mother tongue, and was the language he 
usually employed when writing on the margins of Greek, He- 
brew, and Latin works. Mr. Smedley selects from this page 
the words "Socrates" and "Socratique," which he compares 

^ The Bordeaux Montaigne, edited by Fortunat Strowski, has recently been 
pubUshed under the title, Les Essais de Michel de Montaigne. Publics d'apres 
I'exemplaire de Bordeaux, etc. Sous les auspices de la Commission des Ar- 
chives Municipales. Bordeaux. Imprimerie Nouvelle F. Pech & O^. 1909. 
Vol. 2. 

422 



SYMBOLISM 



with the same words found in a copy of Plato's works in Greek, 
similarly annotated by Bacon. With his consent we reproduce 
his illustration. 

Mr. Smedley calls attention to the fact 

that in each case the three first letters, Soc, are never joined to- 
gether. In the Montaigne the c is not joined to the r, and the 
same peculiarity is found 
in specimens given from / o^jA^i 
the Plato volume. Then 
in every case rati is writ- 
ten without taking off 
the pen. 



f^C^-fO, 









C 



«*»4^ 



CCYd^i 






NOTES TO PLATO 
From Montaigne's Essays, Bordeaux copy, 1588. 



Let us now turn to 
Bacon's acknowledged 
works, and first the 
title-page of his "De 
Verulamio Sermones 
Fideles." On the title- 
page we have the fig- 
ure of a philosopher — 
Bacon— pointing with 
his right hand to a 
female poised upon a 
globe, and holding a scroll which serves as a sail to bear her 
along, and if we turn to the "New Atlantis" we find that a 
virgin with a scroll signifies Poetry. On the table is a doubly 
clasped book and hour-glass. Presumably this is a volume of 
poetry which in time will be unclasped. The three persons 
seated at the table whom he is addressing represent the three 
orders, the prince, the lord, and the commoner, whose atten- 
tion he is calling to the genius of Poetry. 

Referring to the title-page of Bacon's " Henry the Seventh," 
we see, standing upon a globe, the figure of Nemesis, her left 
hand on the wheel of fortune, in her pleasant aspect of the dis- 
penser of equal justice, holding in her right hand a jar of salt 

423 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 



and a bitless bridle.^ On the left of the page, at the right of 
Nemesis, stands a Rosicrucian philosopher, as the roses on 
his shoes indicate, and behind him a knight in armor, and on 
the left an actor, as his buskins and Roman helmet show, with 
the left arm extended toward the globe, and his right grasping 
the shaft of a spear, his sword on the wrong side and entangling 
his legs, and the single spur on his left heel. 

To the extreme right is the same philosopher holding the 
spear shaft strongly with both hands, its end raised to 
the wheel of fortune, the confusing whirl of which it has 
arrested for us to examine, and we see upon it the "mirror," 
which he held "up to nature," "the rod for the back of 
fools"; the "basin" for "guilty blood" in "Andronicus"; 
"the fool's bauble" the grave-digger's "dirty shovel" in 

"Hamlet"; "the Gentle- 
man's Hat," his own; the 
"peer's coronet;" the 
royal crown of England, 
and the "imperial crown 
of Henry Seventh," the 
subject of Bacon's his- 
tory. The bitless bridle, 
the broken spear, the staff 
in his own possession are 
prophetic, and easy of in- 
terpretation. 

It may be illuminating 
to note that Nemesis is 
also the goddess of retri- 
bution, and under this as- 
pect is represented with a 
forbidding face, and hold- 
ing a bitted bridle. 
The next title-page is that of Bacon's "Augmentis Scien- 

^ Baudoin's Emblems, 1638. 
424 





LVGD. EATAVORVM 

Apud Vmnciicuin Moiardum. 

J^ Adrianum Wijngaerde. ^?m^ /^^5- 



SYMBOLISM 

tiarum," published in 1645 in Holland. This pictorial page 
did not appear in England, which is significant of Bacon's 
intention, known to Rawley, of concealing from his country- 
men his less appreciated work "until that far off rosy day" 
which should dawn for their acceptance, a day prophetically 
far off, but doubtless far more remote than he imagined. In 
this cryptic design, the same figure of the philosopher, whom 
we see on the former title-pages, is seated before the inacces- 
sible face of a cliff upon which is a mortuary temple. His right 
hand rests upon the upper of two large folios, while with his 
left he is boosting up the cliff Tragaedus, the goat-clad satyr. ^ 
In the left hand of the Satyr of Tragedy is a book closed and 
clasped, while his harsh face is turned toward Bacon: — 

This man's brow like to a titled leaf, 
Foretells the nature of a tragic volume. 

2 Henry IF, i, i. 

These lines sufficiently describe the nature of the volume 
he holds, and what is to be done with it ? The Satyr of Trag- 
edy is reluctantly depositing the precious book in this inhos- 
pitable aerie, only to be discovered when Nemesis shall make 
her just award. 

And now our final title-page, in some respects the most inter- 
esting of all, which is from the Collected Works attributed to 
Edmund Spenser, published in London in 161 1. It is an elab- 
orate decoration embodying many of the features with which 
we are familiar in the head- and tail-pieces already treated, 
the scroll, the little birds, and other devices, together with the 
masks of Tragedy and Comedy, similar to those to which at- 
tention has already been called. What makes this title-page, 
however, of especial importance is, that it embodies what 
may properly be called the tragedy of Bacon. And now to 
describe it. 

On the left is the figure of Leicester with the bear and staff, 
which are sufficient to identify him, and opposite is Elizabeth 

^ Century Dictionary, in loco. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

with the Lion rampant, and the scepter at her side, sus- 
pended by a chain, which, quite as unmistakably, identify 
her. These figures represent "supporters," in heraldic par- 
lance, and sustain at the height of their heads, between them, 
a shield bearing the arms of Bacon, a boar. The boar is rep- 
resented in leash, the end toward the Queen, to represent her 
connection with his destiny. 

In an oval at the bottom we again see the boar, now regard- 
ing curiously, but almost defiantly, a rosebush in full flower, 
the Tudor emblem inherited by Elizabeth from the House of 
York. Encircling it is a scroll with the legend, "Non Tibi 
Spiro," "/ smell not thee.'" No, the sweetness of this royal 
emblem, heightened by the ardent hope of future possession, 
had been swept away forever, like the first scent of spring 
blooms by a belated storm. Leicester had been dead twenty- 
three years, and Elizabeth eight. In their day this revealing 
title-page would have been an unsafe venture, but now it 
passed as any merely pictured page would pass, hintless of 
veiled meaning; or, if it excited comment, it was but a pretty 
compliment to past greatness, and the boar, shrinking from 
the sweet-scented, but thorny rose, an amusing conceit. These 
title-pages, however, should be sufficient proof, to any un- 
prejudiced mind, of Bacon's authorship, both of the "Shake- 
speare" Works and those contained in the work, the title-page 
of which we have last considered ; and, moreover, that this 
title-page fully confirms what he has told us in cipher, that he 
was one of the children of Elizabeth and Leicester, whose 
existence was so often asserted in the correspondence of min- 
isters of foreign courts, and contemporary annals. 

ANAGRAMS 

The making of anagrams was also an art much practiced by 
mediaeval scholars. Even Queen Elizabeth, says Green, when 
discussing the affectation of her literary style, cultivated a 
"taste for anagrams and puerilities." So esteemed were they 

426 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

at the French Court that Louis XIII maintained a professional 
anagrammatist at an annual salary of twelve thousand livres. 

Anagrams seem to have long occupied a place in the literary 
life of Europe. Roger Bacon, the thirteenth-century scholar 
and scientific student, to protect himself from prying en- 
emies, concealed his formula for an explosive in this ingeni- 
ous anagram : " Sed tamen salis petrae luru mope can iibre et 
sulphuris, et sic facies tonitrum et coruscationem, si scias 
artificium." 

The italics are unmeaning in their present form, but when 
properly combined make carhonum pulvere, or powdered char- 
coal, and are translated thus, " But nevertheless, take of salt- 
petre, with powdered charcoal and sulphur, and then you will 
make thunder and lightning, if you know the mode of prepar- 
ing them." ^ 

In the earliest edition of his "Remains" the staid old 
Camden concealed his name in these anagrams, "Dum ilia 
evincam," and "Nil malum cui Dea." 

Francis Bacon, in common with his contemporaries, seems 
to have been mildly interested in anagrams. Several have 
been pointed out, and doubtless many more will be found by 
ingenious minds. How far anagrams can be relied upon is 
questionable. That many exist that have not been discovered 
is no doubt true. The crucial question is. Does the word or 
sentence when anagrammatized contain more than one perfect 
anagram.? If it does, our work becomes unsatisfactory unless 
we have some convincing proof of its validity. We have re- 
marked upon the uncertain character of the anagram in the 
well-known case of that nerve-racking word, Honorificabili- 
tudinitatibus , in "Love's Labours Lost." It is, of course, pos- 
sible that it was used anagrammatically by Bacon, but it has 
furnished several anagrams quite equal to that attributed to 
him, which renders his use of it as an anagram improbable. 
Having abundant evidence in favor of our client, we should 

^ Ency. Brit., 8th ed., art. "Gunpowder." 
428 



SYMBOLISM 

not be too ready to welcome extraneous evidence, especially in 
this direction. 

The futility of anagrams is especially seen in the curious 
Latin word Honorific abilitudino found on the title-page of 
Bacon's Northumberland Manuscript, and Honorific abili- 
tudinitatihuSy in '' Love's Labours Lost." The almost unpro- 
nounceable word in the play would have little meaning for 
the rude frequenters of the Blackfriars or Globe, and for its 
few more refined patrons it would be a somewhat offensive 
piece of pleasantry. Why it should be thrust into the play 
has naturally excited wonder. Mr. Bowditch discussed the 
shorter word in treating of the Northumberland Manuscript, 
and Dr. Piatt discovered this anagram in it: "Initio hi ludi 
Fr. Bacone" (These plays originated with Fr. Bacon). Mr. 
Lawrence evolved this from the longer word: "Hi Ludi F. 
Baconis nati tuiti orbi" (These plays F. Bacon's offspring are 
preserved for the world). From a word containing twenty- 
seven letters many anagrams may be constructed. 

The history of this cabalistic word is curious. It is found in 
"The Complaynt of Scotland," published at St. Andrews in 
1548. It is still older than this, having been used in a charter 
of 1 187, De Gestis Henrici VII, and still earlier in a Latin 
Dictionary, entitled Magnae Derivationes, according to the 
Catholicon of Giovanni da Genova printed about 1500. 
George Stronach says that it enshrines this anagram: "Ubi 
Italicus ibi Danti honor fit" (Where there is an Italian, there 
honor is paid to Dante). 

That the author of "Love's Labours Lost" used the word 
for a purpose is hardly to be questioned, though we doubt 
that he used it anagrammatically. The literary idiosyncracies 
of our ancestors who used the names of contemporaries upon 
their title-pages, misdated books, and even printed differ- 
ent editions of the same book under different names, ^ are 

* Cf. The Historie of the Life and Death of Mary Stuart, etc. Ed. 1624, by 
Wil. Stranguage. Ibid., ed. 1636, W. Udall. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

perplexing. Such books still survive, and their ghostly authors 
grin at us behind their false masks so nicely adjusted to them 
by the editors of biographical dictionaries. 

ACROSTICS 

With acrostics we have surer ground, as they have to be 
arranged according to method. Etymologically the word 
signifies "at the end of a row" or "line," which describes the 
most familiar form of an acrostic, that in which the initial 
letters at the beginning of each line, when taken successively, 
form one or more words. Probably Addison's declaration that 
he could not decide who was the greater blockhead, the maker 
of anagrams or of acrostics, fairly describes the attitude of the 
modern mind toward them ; yet the acrostic, like the anagram, 
has a long history. It is found in ancient Greek and Latin au- 
thors, long before the Christian era; indeed, as we all know, 
the one hundred and nineteenth psalm exhibits one form of 
acrostic, the alphabetical. This pagan toy amused the early 
Christians, and we find Lactantius and Eusebius exploiting 
verses, the initial letters of which form the words, "Jesus 
Christ, the Son of God, the Saviour." This pious example was 
welcomed in mediaeval cloisters, and helped to relieve the 
routine of monkish life. We see, then, that the acrostic, from 
an early period, has possessed a charm for certain minds, and 
when Sir John Davis wrote his twenty-six hymns to Astraea, 
each embodying the words, "Elizabeth Regina," he had be- 
hind him an illustrious line of lovers of this antique bau- 
ble, — Hugo Grotius; Gottfried of Strasburg; Rudolph of 
Ems; Boccaccio; and some of the chief poets of the Italian 
Renaissance. 

Even in our own day the acrostic survives. It so much 
pleased Edgar Allan Poe that he fashioned a poem containing 
two names, so arranged as to run diagonally through it. Quite 
recently Mr. Carleton Brown has published a volume of poems 
of two of the minor poets of Elizabeth's reign, Sir John Salus- 

430 



SYMBOLISM 

bury and Robert Chester, which contain a variety of curious 

acrostics. This is one: — 

Poesie III 

Tormented heart in thrall, Yea thrall to loue, 
Respecting will, Heart-breaking gaine doth grow, 
Euer Dolobelia, Time so will proue, 
Binding distress, O gem wilt thou allowe. 
This fortune my will, Repose-lesse of ease, 
Vnlesse thou Leda, Ouer-spread my heart, 
Cutting all my ruth, dayne Disdaine to cease, 
I yeilde to fate, and welcome endles Smart. 

Mr. Brown says,^ "In printing these poems herewith I have 
displayed the acrostic letters in bold-face type lest some of 
them should elude the reader's eye," and of this poem in par- 
ticular he says that we find in it " the three names Dorothy 
Cutbert halsall, the last being formed of the terminal letters 
immediately preceding the caesura," or comma. That the 
reader may be relieved from wasting time over this vexatious 
acrostic, we reproduce it as Mr. Brown does. 

To get the name we begin on the capital Z), the fifteenth 
letter from the end of the line next to the last, and read up- 
wards on the capitals to the Y in "Yea." This yields "Doro- 
thy." We then read upward from the line next to the last on 
the first initial capitals to T of the first line, which yields "Cut- 
bert"; then we read upward again, starting with the h in the 
word "ruth," and taking the letter preceding the comma in 
each line to the last / in the word "thrall." This yields "hal- 
sall," and we then have the full name "Dorothy Cutbert 
halsall," the name of Sir John's sister-in-law, the wife of 
Cuthbert Halsall, and the last line is signed "J. S," John 
Salusbury. 

Poe gives this acrostic which contains the name "Sarah 
Anna Lewis." Begin to read on the first letter of the first line ; 
the second letter on the second line, the third letter on the 

^ Carleton Brown, Bryn Mawr College, Monographs, vol. xiv. Bryn Mawr, 
1913- 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

third line, and so on until you reach the letter s at the end of 
the word "names" in the last line: — 

^n Enigma 

"Seldom we find," says Solomon Don Dunce, 
"Half an idea in the profoundest sonnet. 

Through all the flimsy things we see at once 
As easily as through a Naples bonnet — 
Trash of all trash! — how can a lady don it? 

Yet heavier far than your Petrarchan stuff — 

Owl-downy nonsense that the faintest puff 
Twirls into trunk-paper the while you con it." 

And, veritably, Sol is right enough. 

The general tuckermanities are arrant 

Bubbles — ephemeral and so transparent — 
But this is, now — you may depend upon it — 

Stable, opaque, immortal — all by dint 
Of the dear names that lie concealed within 't.^ 

We give these examples simply to illustrate the complex 
character of some acrostics, and as an introduction to the 
question of Bacon's use of acrostics. This question is ably 
treated in the elaborate work on Acrostics of Mr. William 
Stone Booth. The following affords both an explanation of 
principle and an illustration of method. ^ 

^ Edgar Allan Poe, Works, vol. in, p. 24, quoted by William Stone Booth, 
Some Acrostic Signatures of Francis Bacon, p. 74. Boston, 1909. 

* For criticism q| method see Frank A. Kendall, William Shakespeare and 
his Three Friends, Boston, 1911. Also The Nation. January 20, February 10, 
1910. 



SYMBOLISM 

For our purposes it may be very briefly stated that the 
thesis of W. S. Booth is that in a series of corresponding 
places like that of preface, conclusion; first or last stanza; 
prologue or epilogue, in a given set of books suspected to 
have been written by a person other than him whose name 
is on the title-page, it is very highly improbable that the 
types will chance to fall so that they disclose the name of 
the suspected man by the application of any definite, sys- 
tematic method of using the consecutive letters or pages 
taken in the given set of books under discussion. 

As an instance of this principle, suppose that this page 
is the first page of a book by one "Jones" and which 
is for various reasons suspected to have been written by 
Francis Bacon; and suppose that Jones had written twenty 
other books. How probable is it that in the first page of, 
say, even five of these twenty books by Jones, we could 
take the accidental fall of the types on the page (that is 
the fall irrespective of their meaning), and spell Francis 
Bacon from one end of the string of types to the other, 
beginning from the letter at either of the four corners. 
It is so unlikely, that if the types are found to disclose 
the suspected name by the application of this method, in 
a series of corresponding places in the set of books above 
mentioned, it is so because the typography has been 
intentionally arranged to do so. 

Authorship is not necessarily proved by the demonstration 
of intention in the rigging of the types. A signature on a 
draft is not necessarily authentic because it is accepted by 
a bank official. But the systematic use of an intentional 
typographical trick concealing the name of the same man in 
his own work as well as in that of his supposed alter-ego 
would put beyond the peradventure of a reasonable doubt the 
proof that the author himself had played with his own iiam.e. 



433 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Note that the first initial letter of the foregoing is F; and 
that the i?iitial letter at the end of the string of types is the 
initial N of the word "name." 

Begin to spell at the initial F, take the next initial R, then 
the next initial A, and so on, taking the next letter as it comes 
next in the string of initial letters, whether capital or not, and 
spelling FRANCIS BACON. You will find yourself at the 
end of the string and on the initial N, above alluded to. 

How likely is the name of Francis Bacon to appear on the 
first page of a series of epistles written by the same man by the 
application of the above definite method of spelling between 
the ends of strings of type which occupy similar and corre- 
sponding places, unless the name has been "rigged" Into the 
page intentionally? It is of course possible, but very highly 
improbable.^ 

Rawley says that Bacon marked all the plays. In the scene 
in the "Tempest" where Prospero is about to reveal to 
Miranda the secret of her birth, appears this acrostic: — 

Pros. Sit downe. 

For thou must now know farther. 

Mira. You have often 
Begun to tell me what I am, but stopt 
And left me to a bootless Inquisition, 
Concluding, stay: not yet. 

I, II. 



F' 



One of the most Interesting acrostics Is found at the begin- 
ning of "Lucrece," first edition of 1594: — 

^Rom the besieged Ardea all in post, 
Borne by the trustlesse wings of false desire, 
Lust breathed Tarquin, leaves the Roman host, 
And to Colatium beares the lightlesse fire. 
Which in pale embers hid, lurkes to aspire, 
And girdle with embracing flames, the wast 
Of Colantines fair love, Lucrece the chast. 

Here we have the author revealed In a monogram equivalent 
to FR. B. LAW. AO-ALPHA and OMEGA, or beginning and 

^ Mr. W. S. Booth has kindly furnished me with this example. 

434 



SYMBOLISM 

end. This cannot be ascribed to chance. It is plainer than niost 
similar acrostic signatures of ancient authors. 

The fifteenth stanza of "Lucrece" unmistakably reveals 
Bacon. We have already spoken of his habit of writing upon 
the margins of his books, a habit then so unusual as to be vir- 
tually unknown. The lines to which we particularly request 
attention, since they furnish a psychological clue to the au- 
thorship of the poem, quite as important as the acrostic in its 
first stanza, which cannot be ignored, are these: — 

But she that never copt with stranger eyes, 
Could pick no meaning from their parUng looks, 
Nor read the subtle shining secrecies 
Writ in the glassy margents of such books, 

She toucht no unknown baits, nor feared no hooks, 
Nor could she moralize his wanton sight. 
More than his eyes were opened to the light. 

The fixed habit of Bacon, alluded to above, furnished him 
with a constant motive to its exercise, and it was but natural, 
that when the conception of the hidden secrecies in the eyes of 
the chaste Lucrece dawned upon him, he should associate it 
with the secrecies "writ" on the margins of his book. The con- 
ception of this simile could only occur to one familiar with the 
practice of such writing, and this could not possibly have been 
the actor. To remove all doubt, however, the author has 
formed from the initial letters of this stanza, as in the former 
instance, an acrostic B C N W Sh N M, leaving only the 
vowels to be added to make "Bacon, W. Sh. Name." 

This is not coincidence or chance. The care bestowed upon 
initial and terminal words evidence this. Note the beginnings 
of lines 939-58 and endings of lines 127-31, 428-34, in the 
sonnets for instance. This method of leaving vowels to be 
supplied in a verbal puzzle is no doubt familiar to the reader 
of the youth's column of the modern newspaper. 



XII 

ANONYMOUS AND PSEUDONYMOUS AUTHORSHIP 

To understand Francis Bacon we must keep in view the 
dominant motive of his life. It is embodied in these words : 
"It is enough, son, that I have sown unto Posterity and the 
immortal God." Truth has ever been distasteful to despotism, 
hence the men of his day who realized the mental barrenness 
which prevailed in the world, and desired to enrich it, were 
obliged to veil their efforts from the jealous eyes of those in 
power. This was the reason why Rosicrucianism flourished. 
'As its single purpose was to convey knowledge to mankind, it 
sanctioned some methods which to one who does not realize 
the dangers which encompassed it seem childish. This is one 
of the keys to the mystery which shrouded much of Bacon's 
life. That he employed a large portion of it in writing anony- 
mously, or under the names of real or fictitious persons, cannot 
be successfully denied. 

It is well to keep in view the important facts to which we 
have alluded : that Spedding, Bacon's indefatigable biographer, 
could not connect him with the authorship of any important 
published work for fifteen years after his return from the 
French Court; that the "Advancement of Learning," pub- 
lished at the age of forty-four, was his first published work of 
importance, and Rawley's statement that he wrote the ma- 
jority of his philosophical works during the five closing years 
of his life. It must have been in the earlier period of his career, 
then, that many of the anonymous plays, afterwards pub- 
lished under the pen name, "Shake-speare," or " Shakespeare," 
were written. It is important that we should give due weight 
to his reputation as a poet and wit, and to the fact that his 
dramatic talent was always in requisition when a masque was 

436 



ANONYMOUS AUTHORSHIP 

wanted at Court or Gray's Inn. He had ''filled up all num- 
bers," said Jonson, and many others were quite as emphatic in 
their praise of his poetic genius; besides, we have this positive 
and unquestionable statement of Rawley, "For very many 
poems, and the best, too, I withhold from publication; but 
since he himself delighted not in quantity, no great quantity 
have I put forth." ^ 

Note also these lines: — 

Nor need I number the illustrious works 
Which he has left behind, Some buried lie; 
But Rawley, his " Achates " ever true, 
Has given leave that some may see the llght.^ 

Some have endeavored to find a solution for this in his 
philosophical works, which others characterize as prosaic and 
dry. 

Probably no man of his age was so indefatigable a student as 
he. We cannot conceive of idleness in Francis Bacon. His 
dominant purpose was authorship, and, says Rawley, he 
could not "take the air abroad in his coach or some other be- 
fitting recreation, but upon his first and immediate return, 
would fall to reading again, and so suffer no moment of time to 
slip from him without some present improvement"; and we 
are told how persistently he dictated his thoughts for tran- 
scription to the young men in his service whom he addressed 
as sons. 

He must have done more literary work during the best years 
of his life than write bright letters or a few masques for the 
entertainment of the Court, and as playwriting would have 
ruined his official prospects, to say nothing of sensitiveness to 
public clamor, he of set purpose concealed his authorship as 
others often have done. This was made easier by his adoption 
of the Rosicrucian doctrine of Silence. 

Many of the ephemeral scribblers of the day were dissolute 
and greedy for money with which to "ruffle it," when chance 

^ ManeSK Ferulamiani (Introduction). * Ibid. 

437 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

offered, with frequenters of the taverns and theaters, so that 
it was not difficult for a man like Bacon, who was on familiar 
terms with royalty, to borrow a name from almost any of these 
men. Others beside the Stratford actor did not object to the 
use of their names on occasions. Collaboration was common, 
and works were credited to men who never wrote, or, in any 
case, had little to do with them. 

Discoveries, or supposed discoveries, of concealed author- 
ship must necessarily encounter skepticism and ridicule. In- 
deed, when the writer first read of Bacon's use of the names of 
several men of his day, Greene, Peele, Marlowe, Burton, and, 
especially, Spenser, he rejected the statement impatiently. It 
was a potion too offensive to swallow at once. A careful 
study of the lives of these men in connection with their sur- 
roundings, however, discloses the fact that the claim is not 
so absurd as it at first sight appears. Take, for instance, the 
case of one of the most noted men of Elizabeth's reign. 

EDMUND SPENSER 

The reader will be surprised, after studying his various biog- 
raphies, to find, upon stripping them of fanciful trappings, not 
warranted by records, how obscure he was. Oldys ventures an 
attempt to settle his birthplace by a "tradition" that he was 
born near London Tower in East Smithfield,but F. F. Spenser, 
of Lancashire, offsets this tradition by a will, dated 1687, of a 
John Spenser of "Hurstwood near Burnley," which he is said 
to have inherited from a great-grandfather of an Edmund.^ 
Some later writers have accepted Hurstwood as his birthplace 
upon this shadowy evidence, but Dr. Grosart says the burial 
registers of Burnley give the date of burial of an Edmund of 
Hurstwood November 9, 1577. This Edmund appears first in 
1559. In 1564, Edmund and Robert were parties in a suit in 
the Chancery Court of Lancashire. Another Edmund, almost 

^ London Notes and Queries, vol. vii, p. 303 ; cf. The Gentleman'' s Magazine, 
August, 1842, pp. 141 et seq. 

438 



ANONYMOUS AUTHORSHIP 

certainly one of these two, was buried in April, 1587.^ As two 
Edmunds are recorded as being buried so near the proper date, 
Grosart concludes as follows : — 

Edmund Spenser, first of all Spensers, was most probably — a 
probability next door to certainty in the light of genealogical 
facts already given(?) — eldest son of John Spenser, who is de- 
scribed as "free journeyman" of Merchant Taylor's Company 
in 1566, and "gent" in 1571. 

With the words of Stubbs in mind, "Every parish must 
have a history; every parish has a register; every person has a 
parish," the present writer has searched the registers of births 
and marriages of London and other parts of England with 
meager success. Spenser names are found in the Registers,^ 
but none whose birth date coincides with that of the Edmund 
in question. In Musgrave's "Obituaries" is the following: 
Spenser, "Edm. poet, 1598, aet. 86-88," with several refer- 
ences to sources. This would make his birth date either 15 12 
or 15 10, as it is certain that he died in 1598. Evidently the 
chronicler was puzzled by discrepancies which he had noticed 
in the date of his death; hence he tentatively adopted both 
dates. ^ 

In the Register of St. Clements Danes Is the record, "26 
August, 1587, Florence Spenser the daughter of Edmund." 
Collier claims her as the daughter of the "poet," though Todd 
positively asserts that he was a bachelor when he married in 
1594.* 

On October i, 1569, Edmund Spenser was paid for bringing 
dispatches from Sir Henry Norrls, the Queen's ambassador in 
France, "VI'^ XIIP IIIj^ and besydes IX" prested to hym" by 
Norrls.^ 

^ Grosart's Family of Spenser, pp. xi, Ixiv. 

^ Cf. Kensington, Middlesex; St. Marie Aldermarie; St. Dionis, Back 
Church; St. Michael, Cornhill, London. 

' Harleian Society, Musgrave's Obituaries, vol. 48, p. 326. 

* Cf. J. Payne Collier, F.S.A., The Works of Edmund Spenser. London, 1862; 
also cf. Todd's Spenser. 

^ Entry in the Office Book of the Treasurer of the Queen's Chamber. 

439 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Collier suggests that this Edmund was the father; but we 
have been assured that he was a journeyman tailor, and also 
that his name was John. But why did he think him the poet's 
father? Evidently by the discrepancies to which we have 
alluded. In addition to the payment to the dispatch-bearer, 
he had probably seen a curious rhymed epistle in Hakluyt, 
under date of 1568, written from Russia by George Turber- 
ville, who was attached to the English Embassy, beginning — 

If I should now forget, or not remember thee, 

Thou Spenser might'st a foule rebuke, and shame Impute to me.^ 

This was addressed "To Spencer," but Anthony Wood in a 
sketch of Turberville identifies him in this manner. After 
speaking of the Embassy of Thomas Randolph to Russia, 
and the appointment of Turberville as his secretary, he 
says : — 

After our author arrived at that place, he did at spare hours 
exercise his muse, and wrote Poems describing the Places and 
Manners of the Country, An. 1568, writing to Edw. Duncie, Edm. 
Spenser, &c. at London.^ 

As we are endeavoring to find the truth about the age of the 
Spenser we are in search of, we should discard Wood's evi- 
dence. He was anxious to add to his list of notable scholars, 
and, venturing a guess according to historic custom, inserted 
"Edm" before Turberville's "Spencer." We are also enabled 
to eliminate a more important piece of evidence relative to his 
age. 

In a letter of July 14, 1580, to Leicester, Sir William Pel- 
ham, Lord Justice of Ireland, wrote that "Spencer," who had 
"long served without any consideration or recompense, and 
now grown into years^ would be glad to taste of her Majesty's 
bounty." ^ This has long been a stumbling-block to Spenser's 

^ Hakluyt's Principal Navigations, etc., vol. in, p. 127. London, 1903. 
* Anthony A. Wood, M. A., Athenea, Oxonienses, vol. i, p. 627; reprint of edi- 
tion, 1 691. London, 18 1 5. 

' Calendar of the Carew Manuscripts. 

440 



ANONYMOUS AUTHORSHIP 

biographers. Without doubt, however, he refers to James 
Spencer, appointed Master of Ordnance in 1569. We find that 
he was Pelham's brother-in-law; in fact, he alludes to him in 
his correspondence as "his brother Spencer," and as having 
served as Master of Ordnance, which should be sufficient to 
identify him. The dispatch-bearer, Edmund, may well have 
been another of the same name, and we may dismiss both of 
these men from consideration. Evidence that the present date 
on Spenser's tomb in Westminister Abbey is incorrect needs no 
such support. If we refer to the 1679 Folio we find an engrav- 
ing of this tomb bearing these lines: ^ 

Such is the Tombe the Noble Essex gave 
Great Spencer's learned Reliques, such his grave. 
How 'ere ill-treated in His Life he were 
His sacred Bones Rest Honourably Here. 

An inscription above them is as follows : — 

Heare lyes (expecting the Second comminge of our Saviour Christ 
Jesus) the body of Edmond Spencer the Prince of Poets in his 
Tymme whose Divine Spirit needs noe other witness then the 
works which he left behind him he was borne in London in the 
yeare 15 10 and died in the year 1596.^ 

The figure 6 we shall show was a mistake of Stow. 
This Folio also says that he was 

By his Parents liberally Educated, and sent to the University of 
Cambridge, where he continued a student in Pembroke-Hall ; till 
upon the vacancy of a Fellowship, he stood in competition with 
Mr. Andrews (afterwards Lord Bishop of Winchester) in which he 
miscarried; and thus defeated of his hopes, unable any longer to 
subsist In the College, he repaired to some Friends of his in the 
North, where he staid, fell In love, and at last (prevall'd upon 
by the persuasions and Importunities of other Friends) came to 
London. 

Reference to the roll of Bishops of Winchester reveals to us 
that the Andrews above mentioned was Lancelot Andrewes, 

^ The Works of that Famous EnglishPoet, Mr. Edmund Spenser. London, 1679. 
(From Folio in possession of author.) 

441 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

bom in 1555; matriculated at Cambridge 1571; became B.A. 
1575; Fellow 1576; M.A. 1578; Bishop of Winchester, 1618; 
and died 1626. 

We give these particulars that the reader may have all at- 
tainable evidence relative to his age, as a guide in forming a 
correct judgment, for if the birth date on his monument in 
1679 is correct, it will hardly be contended that he was the 
author of the "Faerie Queene." The monument now in the 
Abbey, a duplicate of that depicted in the Folio, bears the 
birth date, 1553, and the death date, 1598. 

Whatever view we may take of the age of Spenser, there is 
no doubt that the birth date, 15 10, was placed upon it at an 
early period. As no attempt has been made by the authors of 
his num.erous fanciful lives to ascertain how early, let us at- 
tempt to do so, and we will begin with the engraving in the 
Folio of 1679, which furnishes an unquestionable starting- 
point. In doing so we refer to Thomas Dingley, a worthy *'01d 
Mortality" of the reign of Charles II, who indulged himself in 
the melancholy amusement of haunting the grim shades of 
ancient churches, and copying therein inscriptions and mortu- 
ary emblems ; so it happened that being in Westminster Abbey 
one day he copied the inscription on Spenser's monument, and 
gives us the correct death date, 1598, as well as the birth date, 
15 10, though, using a coarse pencil, or making a slip, the last 
figure looks about as much like a 6 as a cipher.^ This correct 
death date, copied so near that of the Folio engraving, shows 
almost conclusively that the error was that of Stow, whom the 
editor of the Folio would be likely to follow. 

In speaking of the "tomb" of Spenser, many writers, misled 
by the inscription beginning, "This is the Tomb the noble 
Essex gave," have supposed it to be the architectural struc- 
ture shown in the Folio engraving, but this is an error. The 
writer, having consulted all the authorities on the subject 

^ Thomas Dingley, Gent., History from Marble, vol. ii, p. 139; pi. 472. Lon- 
don, 1867. 

442 



ANONYMOUS AUTHORSHIP 

back to the very rare edition of '' Reges, Regincz, Mobiles'' of 
1606, in the British Museum, finds in it the following inscrip- 
tion : — 

Edmundus Spencer Londinensis, Anglicorum Poetarum nostri 
seculi facile princeps, quod eius poemata faventibus Musis & 
victuro genlo conscripta comprobant. Obiit immatura morte 
anno salutis 1598 & prope Galfredum Chaucerum conditur qui 
foeliclslme poesin Angllcis Uteris primus illustrauit. In quern 
hoec scripta sunt Epitaphla. 

Ascertaining subsequently that there were two earlier edi- 
tions of this work in the Museum, one of 1603, and one of 1600, 
we had them collated and found the inscription the same in 
all of them, except that in the edition of 1600, the name was 
printed Edvv^ardus, and corrected after printing. This settles 
the status of the inscription which was on the wall over the 
body of Spencer, and if the present monument were removed, 
evidence of this is likely to be revealed. We may now ask, 
when was the monument which appears in the Folio of 1679 
erected, and by whom? Essex died on February 25, 1601, and 
we know from the "Reges Reginae" that it was not then 
erected. Allusions, however, to the Countess of Dorset, as 
having had something to do with it, have been made by several 
writers without explanation. That it was erected by her in 
1620 will be seen from the following, taken from the notebook 
of Nicholas Stone, a celebrated architect and sculptor of such 
memorials. This notebook came into the possession of Vertue, 
and portions of it were copied by Walpole from whom we 
quote : — 

1620 In Suffolke I made a tomb for Sir Edmund Bacon's lady, 
and in the same church of Redgrave I made another for his sister 
Lady (Gawdy) and was very well payd for them. And in the 
same place I made two pictors of white marbell of Sir N. Bacon 
and his Lady, and they were layd upon the tomb that Bernard 
Janson had made there, for the which two pictors I was payd by 
Sir Edmund Bacon 200 1. 

I also made a monument for Mr. Spencer the poet, and set it up 

443 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

at Westminster, for the which the Countess of Dorsett payes 
me 40 1.^ 

This shows that during nearly the entire year Stone was 
working for the Bacons, and settles beyond question the date 
of the erection of Spenser's monument which appears in the 
Folio of 1679, of which the present one in the Abbey is a coun- 
terpart excepting the birth date. Francis Bacon, then, must 
have known all about this tomb, if he did not have a hand in 
erecting it. Hoping to find other evidence of an interesting 
nature, the writer had the records of the Abbey searched, and 
the following is an extract from the report sent him : — 

Chapter Clerk's Office, 

The Sanctuary Westminster Abbey, 

20th November, 19 13. 

Mr. Baxter, — 

Dear Sir: ... ...... 

It seems — more than doubtful whether there was any inscrip- 
tion or tablet over his grave before 1620 when the first Monu- 
ment was put up by Ann Clifford, Countess of Dorset, — there 
was no monument until this date. The Monument then put up 
was made of freestone and fell into such decay that in 1778 it was 
replaced by the present Monument which is of Marble and is a 
copy of the former one. 

Yours faithfully, 
George A. Radcliffe. 

Mr. Radcliffe is, of course, wrong in his opinion that there 
was not "any inscription or tablet before 1620," as we have 
shown. This report is accompanied by the following taken 
from the Records : — 

Chapter 13th, April, 1778. 

This day the reverend Dr. Younge acquainted the Dean and 
Chapter that he had received a Letter from Mr. Mason, who de- 
sired that leave might be given for restoring the Monument of 
Spenser in durable marble instead of the present mouldered Free- 
stone; and to correct the mistaken Dates of the Inscription. 

* Horace Walpole, Anecdotes of Painting in England, vol. i, p. 241. London, 
1862. 

444 



ANONYMOUS AUTHORSHIP 

We are thus enabled to fix the responsibility upon William 
Mason, an author of some repute in his day, of altering the 
date upon Spenser's monument without the least historical 
authority for so doing. Thus, beyond question, the present 
birth date was placed upon it a century after that in the Folio 
engraving, and in Dingley's sketch. As far as we know, this 
has passed unquestioned except that in Strype's Stow appears 
this: — 

H. K. in his Monumenta Westmonest fills up this Vacancy of 
the Year of his Birth, and makes it to be 1510. But this does not 
well comport with the Latin Inscription that he dyed morte im- 
matura, i.e., an immature Death and yet lived to near 90 Years. ^ 

Who was H. K., and when did he commit this act? A copy 
of the book we finally found in the National Library. His 
name was Henry Keepe, a clergyman, who says of Spenser's 
works : " Pity it was such true Poetry should not have been 
employed in as true a subject." The date of the book is 1683, 
and the pious author assures us that he was careful to copy 
the inscriptions as he found them, leaving the responsibility 
of errors to those who made them. This ought to be sufficient 
to discredit Stow, if we did not know that the date was there 
long before Keepe wrote the following: "Hard by the little 
East door, is a decayed Tomb of grey Marble, very much 
defaced, and nothing of the ancient Inscription remaining, 
which was in Latine, but of late there is another"; and he 
gives us the one we find in the 1679 engraving, namely, 15 10. 

There was, then, a "Latine" inscription, and Keepe had 
read it in one of Camden's or Stow's histories. It is certain that 
Strype, the editor of the "Survey," wrote loosely, for when he 
edited this edition of Stow the date was there, and Keepe 
had nothing to do with it whatever. The fact is evident that 
Strype, finding the date in Keepe, and being unacquainted 
with the engraving in the Folio, but familiar with Stow's 

^ Strype, Stow^s Survey of London and fVestminsier, vol. 11, p. 32. London, 
1720. 

445 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

earlier work, inferred that Keepe was responsible for the date 
he found in his book, and to make a sharp point against him 
was equally hasty in making "morte immatura" mean that 
he died at an immature age. This could not be truly said even 
of the Spenser who entered the Merchant Tailor's School in 
1569. What was really meant was that his death was untimely, 
as it certainly was, for he was the bearer of important news to 
the Government in a grave crisis of affairs, and his needy 
family was suddenly deprived of his support. 

We have now settled two important facts, namely, that 
prior to 1620 there was only a Latin inscription over the burial- 
place of Spenser, and that from 1679 to 1778 there was a birth 
date of 15 10. The pregnant question is. Was this date placed 
on the monument by Nicholas Stone in 1620, or by some one 
between that date and 1679.^ There were three editions of 
Stow printed before his death in 1604, and several after; one 
in 161 8, which has the same Latin inscription found in the edi- 
tion of 1600, and one in 1633. The latter has the inscription 
shown in the Folio of 1679, except the birth date, which is 

blank: "He was borne in London in the yeere and died 

in the yeere 1596." This raises several queries. Did the editor 
of the 1633 Stow attempt to copy the dates at an hour when 
the inscription was in obscurity, and being uncertain left the 
birth date blank in his notes .? He certainly got the death date 
wrong, which makes this seem probable, for Dingley, who was 
most painstaking, and an expert in such work, got it right ; or 
was the birth date put on the monument between 1633 and 
the time when Dingley copied it, presumably a year or two be- 
fore 1679 ? No one could have filled the blank without permis- 
sion from the Abbey authorities, and there is nothing in the 
Abbey records to show that such permission was requested or 
granted. That the author of the brief sketch of Spenser's life 
in the Folio of 1679 got his erroneous death date from Stow 
seems probable, and quite as improbable that he got his birth 
date from Dingley's manuscript, which was not in print until 

446 



ANONYMOUS AUTHORSHIP 

long after. Where, then, did he get it ? He might have referred 
to Stow's work, and accepted the death date, and noticing the 
blank birth date have obtained it by personal inspection, with- 
out thinking it necessary to verify the death date. That the 
birth and death dates were put on the monument when Nich- 
olas Stone erected it in 1620 seems a reasonable conclusion. If 
so, and it was wrong, many who knew Spenser should have re- 
marked it. Ben Jonson did not die until 1637, and Bacon un- 
til 1626. Jonson must have been especially interested in the 
Abbey, for he had secured a place there. He had said to 
the King that he wanted two feet square of land, and when 
asked where he wanted it, replied, laughingly, in Westminster 
Abbey. The King good-naturedly granted his request, and he 
was buried standing, as was proved some years ago, when a 
burial was made adjoining his grave. 

We have exhausted all known methods to clear from doubt 
the question of Spenser's birth date. If it were not placed upon 
the monument when it was erected in 1620, we trust that evi- 
dence may yet be brought forth to show it. This will not be 
done, however, by pursuing the easy though alluring methods 
of the past. Thus far the same fashion of building up Spenser's 
life as that employed by the biographers of the Stratford 
actor has been resorted to. A few, a very few, incidents have 
been taken as a foundation, and upon these has been reared 
an airy fabric of surmises which, to uncritical readers, looks 
substantial enough, but when critically examined is found to 
be an illusion. 

At this point let us inquire how his father's name and birth- 
place were determined. Among the many of the name then 
living in England this record was found, " Edmund Spenser 
ScoUer of the M'chant, Tayler, Schoole, 1569," and the 
inference was made that his father was a tailor. Search was 
made for a man of that profession, and one was found named 
John. Without the least proof that this man was related to 
this Edmund, — for it should be remembered that children of 

447 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

fathers not of the tailor's profession were admitted to this 
school, — John, the tailor, was made to head his genealogy, 
and as he practiced his humble calling in London, this city was, 
of course, assumed to be his birthplace, though it might as 
well have been any other place in the realm. To buttress this 
assumption resort was had to the poems, and these lines were 
found in the "Prothalamion'*: — 

At length they all to merry London came 
To mery London, my most kyndly Nurse 
That to me gave this Life's first native sourse 
Though from another place I take my name, 
An house of ancient fame.^ 

Quite as difficult a problem was his age, as we have already 
seen. Mason saw this, and, being a lover of the Spenser poems, 
cast about to solve it. To leave it as it was might ultimately 
invalidate the Irish secretary's title to the "Faerie Queene." 
In his reading he found these Hues in the "Amoretti": — 

since the winged God his planet cleare 
begun in me to move, one year is spent: 
the which doth longer unto me appeare, 
than al those fortie which my life outwent. ^ 

Mason assumed that the date of the composition of these 
lines was 1594, and adding one year to the "fortie" found in 
them, subtracted the sum from that date, which gave him the 
convenient date of 1553. This date he substituted for the 
ancient date on the monument. Was he right in so doing.'' 
Referring to the sonnet the editor of the Cambridge edition of 
the poems remarks that "al those fourty" is a phrase some- 
what too convenient to inspire confidence.^ In assuming these 
lines to be personal, Mason after all does not settle the ques- 
tion of the birth date. Dr. Grosart, who has given us our best 
biography of him, — if it is proper to dignify work so largely 
constructed of surmises by this title, — takes this humorous 

^ Folio 161 1, 8th stanza. ^ Folio 1611, Sonnet 60. 

' The Complete Poetical Works of Edmund Spenser, etc., vol. i, p. 11. Cam- 
bridge ed. Boston, 1908. 

448 



ANONYMOUS AUTHORSHIP 

view of the method of deducing his age from the expression 
**al those fourty": — 

It is, however, to be noted what the mutilated quotation of 
the Sonnet hitherto has hidden, that on his Life ("my Hfe out- 
went") in another Hne, epexegetlcal of the other, he characterizes 
"fourty yeares"as having been wasted In long languishment of 
love and loving. If we attach precision to the former, equal pre- 
cision must be attached to the latter; and this being so, it seems 
needful to allow some limited term of years to have gone before 
the "fourty." He can hardly have begun to "languish" until he 
had passed Into his early teens at soonest. Yet if "fourty yeares " 
are to be taken strictly, we have been Inaugurating his "languish- 
ment" while still "Muling and puking in his nurse's arms." ^ 

It is evident that Dr. Grosart had little confidence in the 
peculiar method of settling genealogical problems adopted by 
some of his predecessors. The poems having been found to 
be so prolific in genealogical data, it was surmised that they 
might conceal other hints, and they did, for to the " Amoretti " 
and "Epithalamion" we are indebted for his mother's name, 
the date of his marriage, and the name of his wife. The "Amo- 
retti" and "Epithalamion" present to us a difficult problem. 
The first consists of eighty-nine sonnets, and the latter of 
twenty-four strophes, and have been regarded as embodying 
Spenser's prenuptial and nuptial experiences. Both were en- 
tered for publication on the Stationers' Register, November, 
1594, and from this fact, and this fact alone, it has been as- 
sum.ed that they were written not long prior to that date. 
Though containing some of the best poetic lines written by 
their author, both poems pour forth one long fanfaronade 
of nuptial passion, and we refuse to believe that their author 
intended to reveal himself through them to public gaze. It 
would have been too indelicate, though he might have com.- 
posed them for a friend or patron. The sonnet assumed to 
reveal the names of his mother and wife is as follows : — 

^ Rev. Alexander B. Grosart, LL.D., F.S.A., The Complete Works 0/ Edmund 
Spenser, etc., vol. i, p. 2. London, 1882-84. 

449 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Most happy letters! fram'd by skilfull trade, 
with which that happy name was first desynd 
the which three times thrise happy hath me made 
with gifts of body, fortune, and of mind. 
The first my being to me gave by kind, 
from mother's wombe derived by due descent 
the second is my sovereigne Queene most kind, 
that honour and large riches to me lent. 
The third, my love, my lives last ornament, 
by whom my spirit out of dust was raised: 
to speake her prayse and glory excellent, 
of all alive most worthy to be praised. 
Ye three Elizabeths for ever live, 
That three such graces did unto me give.^ 

We will accept, tentatively, the declaration that the author 
of this sonnet was " derived by due descent from one of the 
three Elizabeths": Bacon was, if we accept the cipher story. 
There is, however, an equivoque in the verbal form of the dec- 
laration. His *' being" is said "by kind" to have been "de- 
rived by due descent " from one of the Elizabeths. This might 
be said with propriety by a more remote descendant even 
than a son. For instance, Charles I, whose mother's name 
was Anna, might have said that "by kind," that is, by kin or 
kindred, he was "derived by due descent" from Mary Queen 
of Scots. The question is, Did the poet intend to be under- 
stood as claiming that both his mother and wife bore the 
illustrious name of his Queen? In considering this question 
we should remember a peculiarity conspicuous both in the 
"Shakespeare" Sonnets and the "Faerie Queene." In both 
the poet, by a deft exercise oi\\X.tr2.ry finesse ^ changes person- 
alities at will. In the case of Elizabeth we have in the latter 
Belphcebe, Gloriana, and Britomarte, quite distinct personal- 
ities, yet they are all Elizabeth under different aspects. We 
suggest, therefore, that the poet might be addressing Eliza- 
beth under different aspects, though in this case more inti- 
mately. We may also inquire if his declaration that his wife 

^ The Folio of 1611 (from Author's copy), p. 489; cf. Francis J. Child, The 
Poetical Works of Edmund Spenser, vol. v, p. 278. Boston, 1855. 



ANONYMOUS AUTHORSHIP 

was "of all alone most worthy to be praised," not excepting 
his Queen, could have been made without a serious breach of 
etiquette ? It might have been made to his wife in the privacy 
of domestic life, but to have sent these lines to the jealous and 
imperious Elizabeth is another matter, and might have made 
the writer persona non grata forever after, if it did not subject 
him to a charge oilese majeste. Besides, the "Amoretti" and 
"Epithalamion" contain terms of ecstatic admiration which 
were her prerogative as is evinced by a careful reading. Think 
of one of her subjects saying of his w ife as publicly as this was 
said by one whom his biographers claim was a courtier — 

that he would ween 
Some Angel she had been 
Her long loose yellow locks like golden wire, 
Sprinkled with pearl, and perling flowrers atween. 
Her goodly eyes like Saphyres showing bright 
Her forehead Ivory white. 

It should be noted how faithfully these lines depict the 
Queen in the exaggerated style of the period. Her rosy cheeks 
are said to be 

Like crimson dyde in grain 
That even the Angels, which continually 
About the sacred Altar do remain 
Forget their service and about her fly. 

Epithalamion, Folio 1649. 

Such terms as the following could hardly have been applied 
to the poor Irish clerk's wife : — 

The soveraigne beauty which I do admire 
Witness the world how worthy to be prais'd 
The light whereof hath kindled heavenly fire 
In my frail spirit, by her from baseness rais'd 
The glorious pourtract of that Angel's face 
Made to amaze weak mens confused skill. 

Jmoretti, ibid. 

These examples remind one of the manner in which her 
courtiers were wont to address the Queen. Angel was a term 

451 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

often applied to her. For a son to have addressed his mother 
under the aspects of a "bestower of honour," a "lender of 
riches," and above all a being "most worthy to be praised," 
would have been a gracious and acceptable thing. By riches 
the poet, of course, meant mental riches in the sense in which 
he employed it in his "Astrophel": — 

To her he vow'd the service of his daies, 
On her he spent the riches of his wit. 

Let us now inquire how the date of Spenser's mar- 
riage was determined. In the "Epithalamion" are these 
lines: — 

Ring out ye bells, ye young men of the town. 
And leave Your wonted labors for the day: 
This day is holy; do you write it down 
That ye for ever it remember may. 
This day the sun is in its chiefest hight, 
With Barnaby the bright.^ 

The "Amoretti" and "Epithalamion" were entered upon 
the Stationers' Register, November, 1594, and the marriage 
is assumed to have taken place six months before on St. Barna- 
bas Day, June 11. It might have been placed six years before 
with as much propriety. Desiring to ascertain if possible the 
true date of Spenser's marriage, we have endeavored to obtain 
from the Church Registers in the County of Cork evidence 
of the event, but thus far, without result. 

We should call attention to two documents discovered by 
Dr. Grosart ; one a petition of Sylvanus Spenser, eldest son of 
Edmund Spenser, declaring that the petitioner "was seized 
in his desmene in fee of Kyllcollman, and divers other lands 
and tenements — in the county of Corke, which descended to 
your petitioner by the death of his said father," and which 
came into the hands "of Roger Seckerstone and the petition- 
ers mother which they unjustly detayneth." This was in 1603 . 
The other document is an Indenture of May 3, 1606, between 

^ Folio 161 1, p. 480. 
452 



ANONYMOUS AUTHORSHIP 

** Sir Richard Boyle — and Elizabeth Boyle als Seckerstone 
of Kilcoran, widow." ^ 

We have no disposition to question this, though it seems to 
conflict seriously with the assumed date of Spenser's marriage, 
as Sylvanus could not have been over eight years of age at 
the time he petitioned. It has been "assumed," of course, that 
he was represented by a guardian or other authorized person, 
but this nowhere appears, which makes it seem probable that 
he was of legal age in 1606. 

But there is another curious fact connected with the Spenser 
of the biographers. "At some time after leaving college," we 
are told, "Spenser went to reside in the North of England, it 
may be with relatives in Lancashire — and early in 1579 we 
find him residing in Kent," and on the i6th of October at 
Leicester House where he was until August, 1580, at which 
time he received the appointment of secretary to " Lord Grey 
of Wilton deputed to the Government of Ireland." ^ 

Thus in 1580, Spenser went with Gray to Ireland, where with 
others he was granted land. Here he passed his life until a few 
weeks before his death in 1598. This date is fixed beyond 
peradventure by Chamberlain, "London, this 17th of Janu- 
ary, 1598, Spenser our principall poet, coming lately out of 
Ireland, died at Westminster on Saturday last." ^ In 1596, 
was sent to the Queen his view of conditions in Ireland, in 
which he related the following incident : — 

At the execution of a notable traytor at Limericke called 
Murrogh O Brian, I saw an old woman which was his foster mo- 
ther take up his head, whilst he was quartered, and sucked up ail 
the blood that runne thereout, saying that the earth was not 
worthy to drinke it, and therewith also steeped her face and 
brest, and tore her haire, crying out and shrieking most ter- 
ribly.* 

^ Rev. Alexander Grosart, The Complete Works, etc., vol. i, pp. 198, 556. 
^ Grosart, vol. i, p. 2. 

^ Letters written by John Chamberlain, p. 41. London, 1861. 
* Edmund Spenser, Esq., A View of the State of Ireland, 1596, in Ancient 
Irish History, vol. 11, p. 104. Dublin, 1809. 

453 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

The date of this execution is thus fixed in a letter of Sir Wil- 
liam Drury to Leicester, dated July 8, 1 577, in which he says : — 

The first day of this month, I adjourned the sessions for the 
county of Limerick until a new warning and caused one Mur- 
rough O. Bryan — to be executed.^ 

This was more than three years before the departure of our 
biographers' Spenser for Ireland. How can this and other in- 
cidents, described in the "View of Ireland" as taking place 
before 1580, be accounted for? Spenser's latest biographer 
admits that 

We have evidence, not altogether conclusive, that in that 
year (1577) he was with Sir Henry Sidney in Ireland acting as 
one of his secretaries.^ 

Would this evidence based on Spenser's own statement fail 
to be conclusive were it not for a preconceived theory .? 

Dismissing the question of Spenser's age, which, had we 
raised it two centuries or more ago, would have been as posi- 
tively affirmed as if we had questioned a favorite dogma, 
and we should have been curtly directed to his monument 
for confirmation, let us now pass to a brief consideration of 
the works now accredited him. The first, the "Shepherd's 
Calendar," the name of a popular almanac, was published 
anonymously in 1579. It was dedicated to Sidney, and a pref- 
atory poem followed, signed Immerito. That this pseudonym 
was supposed to be a mask of Sidney is shown by Whetstones, 
who ascribed the "Calendar" to him in these words: — 

The last Shepherd's Calendar, the reputed work of Sir Phil 
Sidney, a work of deep learning, judgement and witte, disguised 
as Shep's Rules. ^ 

In 1590 appeared the "Faerie Queene." In this the name, 
Spenser, first appeared in a letter addressed to Ralegh, dated 
January 23, 1589. 

^ Carew Papers, vol. ii, p. 104. 

^ Complete Poetical Works of Spenser, p. xlii. Cambridge Ed., Boston, 1908. 

^ George Whetstones, Sir Phillip Sidney, etc., p. lOi. London, 1587. 

454 



ANONYMOUS AUTHORSHIP 

The "Faerie Queene" is a poetical romance of chivalry 
evidently conceived by a very young man, partly finished, and 
later added to, but finally left incomplete. It illustrates under 
a thinly veiled allegory the reign of Elizabeth, and here we 
have one number of the combination to unlock the secret to 
the author's personality. As in the " Shakespeare " Sonnets, so 
in the "Faerie Queene," by a deft transition the personality 
of a character is changed as the imagination of the poet is 
flashed upon some quality in it which is needed to round out 
his artistic scheme, an artifice peculiar to Ariosto; thus Eliza- 
beth — the Faerie Queene — in her role of royalty is Gloriana, 
of Chastity is Britomarte, and in that of a gentle lady is Bel- 
phcebe ; Essex is Artegal, or Lord Grey, according to the poet's 
conceit, and he adumbratively entertains us with historic 
combats between Henry IV and Philip II : besides we have 
reminders of Mary Queen of Scots, and Leicester's campaign 
in the Netherlands, and other historic characters and events. 
The sudden shifting of personalities in the Sonnets has been 
the despair of theoretical critics. In the " Faerie Queene," 
however, the glosses assist us in recognizing them. Another 
number to the combination is furnished by the moral purpose 
disclosed by the author. His aim is to teach, to contribute to 
the advancement of learning, by a number of poetical Essays 
treating of Holiness, Temperance, Chastity, Friendship, Jus- 
tice, and Courtesy; the last on Mutability being left unfinished. 
This is remarkable, for it fits into the scheme of the " Shake- 
speare" Works and the Essays of Bacon. We have already 
referred to the fact that the "Shakespeare" Works are 
dramatic Essays treating of Revenge ("Hamlet"); Ambi- 
tion ("Macbeth"); Love ("Romeo and Juliet"); Jealousy 
("Othello") ; Avarice ("Merchant of Venice") ; Envy ("Julius 
Caesar"); Hypocrisy ("Measure for Measure"); etc.; and 
have called attention to the Civil and Moral Essays of Bacon 
coordinal with them, treating of Truth, Envy, Death, Ad- 
versity, etc. It is certainly remarkable that in the "Faerie 

455 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Queene" we find precisely the same purpose which culminates 
in the great philosopher's Civil and Moral Essays. Is it not 
impossible to believe, that in a day so uncongenial to educa- 
tional effort, there were three individuals, a poor clerk in a 
government office, an uneducated actor, and a great thinker 
who had taken all learning for his province, all inspired by one 
and the same purpose, namely, of instructing the world by 
moral Essays, each in a distinct literary form, one employing 
poetry, another the drama, and yet another philosophy? We 
leave the answer to our reader. 

During the next five years most of the "Spenser" Works 
appeared in print. In 1611 they were collected and published 
in folio by some one unknown, with the name "Edmund 
Spenser" on the title-page. This title-page is so remarkable 
that we have reproduced it for the particular attention of the 
reader. The Folio also contained the " Shepherd's Calendar," 
which had hitherto been anonymous, with its Immerito poem. In 
a collection of works like this we should expect to find a sketch 
of the author's life, but in this case nothing of the kind appears. 

In 1679, however, the folio already mentioned appeared 
with its meager sketch of Spenser. This has served as a basis 
for all subsequent writers to build their airy fabrics upon. We 
have seen what the unknown author of this sketch said regard- 
ing the date of his birth. He did something quite as mischiev- 
ous which succeeding writers have blindly accepted without 
critical examination. Seeing the Immerito poem, and, it would 
seem, concluding that this was a nom de plume of Spenser, and 
also knowing of certain correspondence of Gabriel Harvey 
with one Immerito, he included in the volume five of these 
letters, assuming that Harvey's correspondent was Spenser. 
In these letters, and the evident fact that the "Shepherd's 
Calendar" unmistakably revealed the work of a young man, 
wefind why in 1778, a hundred and eighty years after Spen- 
ser's death. Mason saw the necessity of changing the dates 
upon the monument. To alter the dates on a man's monument 

456 



ANONYMOUS AUTHORSHIP 

so long after its erection was certainly a most reprehensible 
proceeding, but how shall we regard his biographers, who have 
adopted without question Mason's theory, and have condoned 
his offense, as well as that of the unknown author of 1679 who 
foisted the Immerito letters upon us? 

We have already shown why Immerito was supposed to be 
Spenser's pen-name: Harvey also addresses the same corre- 
spondent as Benevolo. The question is. Do Harvey's letters 
identify Spenser, the Cambridge sizar, with the author of the 
"Faerie Queene"? Says Harvey's editor, "It is curious that 
Edmund Spenser's name does not occur, and that there is not 
the slightest allusion to him in any of the twenty-five letters 
above mentioned." ^ 

This certainly opens the door for us to inquire whether they 
really were addressed to him. There seems to be ample in- 
ternal evidence that they were not. 

The letters of Harvey reveal to us a most conceited and 
egotistical personality, erratic and quarrelsome to the border 
line of irrationality. His editor says of him that " being on the 
one hand the son of a ropemaker, he is a perfect master of all 
the vulgar slang and homely proverbs of his time ; and being 
on the other hand, one of the most deeply read men of his age, 
and having, evidently, a most retentive memory, he employs 
the most out-of-the-way terms, and the most long-winded 
sentences to express his meaning." Yet allowing this, can we 
imagine him addressing, in that age of sharp social distinctions, 
a tailor's son and charity scholar, and, withal, seven years 
younger than himself, as "So honest a yuthe in ye city"; "so 
trew a gallant in ye courts"; "so towarde a lawier"; and "so 
witty a gentleman"; "II magnifico Segnoir Immerito"; "I 
presume of our oulde familiaritye " ; "Your gracious Master- 
shippe"; "Your Worship"; "Magnifico Signor Benevolo"; 
and "I take my leave of your Excellencyes feete".? 

It would seem that such terms were more absurd than even 

* Edward John Lord Scott, Letter-book of Gabriel Harvey, p. viii. London, 1884. 

457 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Gabriel Harvey in his absurdest moments could possibly ap- 
ply to one whose social position even he regarded as inferior, 
for sizars were obliged to perform menial services, which the 
paid student like himself scorned, and he has expressed him- 
self respecting them by comparing "The raskallest siser in the 
university with the beggarliest mendicant frier in a country." 
Not a single term employed by Harvey describes the subject 
of his obsequious adulation. Certainly he was not a lawyer, 
toward or otherwise; nor could he have addressed him as 
** courtier and a gentleman." True, the biographers of Spenser, 
like those of the Stratford actor, have exhibited him as a favor- 
ite figure in Elizabeth's Court, but there is not the least evi- 
dence of this ; in fact, he was so disliked that Burghley is said 
to have kept him from her presence, and that worthy old 
gossip. Fuller, says that the only way he could devise to get a 
hundred pounds which she had promised to bestow upon him, 
was to waylay her with "a witty rhyme" when she was mak- 
ing a journey, a very common device for wits out at elbow to 
employ, as we have observed. 

This story which, without reason, has given color to his re- 
ception at Court, has its origin in a yarn by one, Touse, to 
another London gossip, Manningham, and has been consider- 
ably enlarged by a third. Fuller. Hales relates a quite different 
story, but they are not worthy of repetition.^ 

It should be remembered that Harvey, Bacon, and the sizar 
Spenser, were at Cambridge at the same period, and that it 
was something worth while for men like Harvey to be on 
speaking terms with this aristocratic young son of the Great 
Lord Keeper, favorite of the court, and on familiar terms with 
the Queen. Such expressions as we have quoted were in the 
fashion of the times, and, if we may judge from similar ex- 
amples, did not seem overstrained ; but they would have been 
impossible of application to the tailor's son, a sizar, and espe- 

^ John Manningham' s Diary, p. 435; Thomas Fuller's Worthies, p. 222; R. 
Morris, Complete Works of, etc., vol. i, p. xiii, et seq. 

458 



ANONYMOUS AUTHORSHIP 

dally by a man in his own class socially. Why, too, should 
he speak of him as "My yunge Italianate Seignoir and French 
Monseiur"? We know that Bacon had not long before re- 
turned home from his travels in Italy and France, so that 
Harvey might well have addressed him thus. 

Of course the two Immerito letters to Harvey, one dated at 
Leicester House, October, 1579, and the other at Westminster 
the following April, should be noticed. The writer speaks in 
the first of a prospect of going abroad on some mission. This 
is cited as evidence of Spenser's authorship of the letters, be- 
cause a year after, if he was not in Ireland already, he was 
sent there by Leicester. To ask us to accept this as evidence 
is simply begging the question. In the second letter, six 
months later, Immerito does not allude to a prospective jour- 
ney, butspeaksof "my Faerie Queene," "my Calendar," "my 
Dreames," and other works. In the latter he says are "Many 
things wittily discoursed of E.K. and the pictures so singularly 
set forth and portrayed, as if Michael Angelo were there, he 
could [I think] nor amende the beste, not reprehende the 
worse." These "Dreams" we should like to see, and what was 
discoursed of E. K., supposedly the author himself, though 
an unavailing effort has been made to identify the initials as 
those of an Edward Kirk, son of a boarding-house keeper. 

Harvey, in his reply, omits allusion to the prospective jour- 
ney in the first letter, but he speaks of "your nine Comedies," 
which indicates that Immerito, in addition to the poems 
spoken of, was also writing comedies. This is interesting, for 
comedies were in demand, and worth good money which their 
author needed. We wonder what became of them. Harvey 
also reveals in one of his fantastic screeds his correspondent's 
reasons for concealment in these words : " I take occasion to 
show you a peece of a letter rece)rved from Courte written by 
a friende of mine, that since a Certayn chaunce befallen him, a 
secret not to be revealed, calleth himself Immerito."' ^ 

' Harvey's Letter Book. 

459 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Certainly the poor tailor's son could not have been writing 
from Elizabeth's Court, nor by the wildest stretch of imagina- 
tion can we conceive of his having a secret so great as to com- 
pel him to conceal his authorship of a poem ; but, according to 
the cipher story, the young attache at the French Court, so 
praised by Paulet, was then reveling in dreams of power, and 
possessed a very great secret which could not be disclosed. We 
may well ask if in this frame of mind he might not have woven 
into his poetical productions incidents of his own life, irre- 
spective of any ciphers, and if this is not especially evident in 
the "Shepherd's Calendar" and "Mother Hubbard's Tale"? 
That he did this has been shown so well already, that to treat 
this phase of our subject would be a work of supererogation.^ 
There are, however, other interesting points to consider. 

Any one who looks through Spenser's different biographies 
will be struck with the portraits which illustrate them. Evi- 
dently the old trick of enterprising publishers, who, wanting a 
portrait, select a promising one from stock, has been resorted 
to in the case of Spenser. We present two as examples. 

His verbal portrait was drawn by Aubrey in this graphic 
manner: "He was a little man, wore short hair, little band and 
little cuffs" ;^ which may present him to us in a more lively 
manner than either of his portraits. The Edmund Spenser 
who passed his life in Ireland is represented always as a poor 
man, perhaps because of Fuller's rather pedantic comparison 
of him with an author of antiquity, who was said to have been 
more famous for his poverty than his writings.^ 

There is no positive evidence that he ever revisited England. 
His biographers give us Several dates of visits adjusted con- 
veniently to events, as the return of Lord Grey from Ireland, 
the publication of books accredited to him, and the bestowal 
of a small pension upon him. It should be noted that the 
Rolls Ofhce, Dublin, discloses these facts: "August 12, 1580, 

^ See Granville C. Cunningham, Bacon's Secret Disclosed. London, 191 1. 
* Aubrey's Lives, in loco. ' Fuller's Worthies, p. 220. 

460 




^1^^*. 



^? 




; &dS?*^ ■^ >t ^v ^H-v v^^w . 




Till': -KIXXOULL" THE "WILSON 

EDMUND SPENSER 



ANONYMOUS AUTHORSHIP 

Lord Grey accompanied by his Secretary, Edmund Spenser, 
arrived." If the latter had been there under Sidney in 1577, 
he must have been well acquainted with the country. 

March 22 (following) Spenser was appointed Clerk of De- 
crees and Recognizances of Chancery. In respect of his posi- 
tion as secretary to Lord Grey his patent was given "free of 
the seal." Lord Grey reUnquished his office in August, 1582, 
but Spenser retained his position until the 22d June, 1588, 
when he was succeeded by Arland Usher. ^ "It is evident," 
says Hales, "that he did not return with Grey but abode still 
in Ireland." 

Spenser merely changed his office of Clerk of Decrees for the 
more important position of Clerk of the Council of Ulster. 
The duties of these offices were exacting, and the salaries 
small. The incumbent could not safely have left them at any 
time without imperiling his interests. It was a maxim then 
well understood by all incumbents of public offices that it was 
" not safe to leave the stool empty." This office of Clerk to the 
Council, which demanded his closest attention, he seems to 
have held until the autumn of 1591, when on October 26, he 
was granted "the Manor and Castle of Kylcolman with other 
lands containing 3028 acres in the Barony of Fermoy, Country 
Cork, also chief rents forfeited by the late Lord Thetmore and 
the late traitor. Sir John Desmond." ^ 

Any one who has studied the history of the confiscation 
of Irish estates by Elizabeth knows the difficulty which the 
grantees encountered, rendering de facto possession, and con- 
stant watchfulness, necessary to protect their grants; hence 
it was a condition of Spenser's grant that he should remain 
upon his estate, and he could not, if he would, have left Ireland 
safely; besides, the records reveal a startling condition of 
affairs. Colin, the gentle shepherd, when he did " assyne " his 

* Sir Philip de Malpas Grey Egerton, Bart., etc., A Commentary on the Serv- 
ices, etc., of William Lord Grey, p. xviii. London, 1847. 

* Memoirs, etc., p. xxxii. 

461 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

office "unto one Nicholas Courtneys," covenanted that he 
should be "free in said office for his cawses"; in other words, 
could prosecute suits at law without cost to himself; "by rea- 
son of which immunity," we are told, and the records disclose, 
he multiplied oppressive suits against many persons to get 
possession of their estates. Moreover, he showed the harshest 
spirit against the distracted natives, advocating measures 
"little short of wholesale depopulation." ^ 

Trotter, describing the treatment of his countrymen by the 
English, thus alludes to him: — 

When Spenser, the poetic, the gentle Spenser, was guilty of 
these oppressive and unjust proceedings, the reader may easily 
guess at the conduct of his more Ignorant and brutal fellow- 
planters by whom the country was converted into a desert. For 
these and other aggressions on the unfortunate natives, the poet 
soon afterwards felt the full weight of their vengeance.^ 

It is difficult to imagine Spenser amid the engrossing duties 
of his various offices, oppressed with the details of vexatious 
lawsuits, and struggling to maintain his estate, setting out for 
London to publish his poems and dawdle in Elizabeth's Court. 
In any case, the Spenser who went with Grey to Ireland in 1580 
resided there till shortly before his death, and could not have 
been on a familiar footing at Court as some of the effusions 
credited to him might imply, nor had his bitter complaint as a 
suitor at Court any relevancy to him, though it perfectly coin- 
cides with Bacon's experiences and utterances. 

The wonderful power of pictorial expression In the poems 
ascribed to Spenser alone finds its counterpart in the " Shake- 
speare" Works, and it is especially remarkable that as Mar- 
lowe Is said to have exerted a dominating influence on the 
earlier works of this author, so it is said that Spenser exerted 
as marked an influence upon Marlowe. If this is the case, why 

1 James Hardiman, M.R.I.A., Irish Minstrelsy, vol. i, pp. 319-21. London, 

1831. 

* Walks in Ireland. 

462 



ANONYMOUS AUTHORSHIP 

not go back to the fountain-head and say that Spenser Influ- 
enced Shakspere? The important bearing of this criticism 
upon Bacon's authorship of the "Shakespeare" Works we 
propose to show by a few of a much greater number of quota- 
tions that might be made from not only Marlowe, but from 
Greene and Peele, the three other personce whom Bacon, it 
is said, employed to reach the public ear. 

Several small works under no name wonne worthy praise. 
Next in Spenser's name also they ventured into an unknowne 
world. When I, at length, having written in diverse styles, 
found three, who for sufficient reward In gold added to an imme- 
diate renoune as good pens willingly put forth all works which 
I had compos'd, I was bolder.^ 

It is instructive to note how the orthodox Shaksperian 
critic associates his author with Greene, Peele, and Marlowe. 
Here is a familiar instance from Dowden : — 

In the Second and Third parts of "Henry VI," he [Shakspere] 
worked upon the basis of old plays written probably by Marlowe 
and Greene, possibly also Peele, and in the revision he may have 
had Marlowe as a collaborator. 

If the Stratford actor's biographers had analyzed the works 
accredited to these men, and had frankly shown their readers 
the true status of the case, instead of cloying them with pleas- 
ant fiction, Shaksperian criticism would occupy a more cred- 
itable position than it does at present. 

^ Biliteral Cypher, p, 8i. 



XIII 

A LITERARY SYNCRISIS 

We propose to show by quotations from works now as- 
cribed to Spenser, Greene, and Marlowe, not only a similarity 
of style, but the same thoughts and expressions, forcing one 
to the conclusion that either the men who have been hailed 
by careless critics as the foremost in England's Renaissance 
were criminal plagiarists, or the excerpts which v/e quote from 
the works accredited them were conceived by a single brain, 
and written by a single hand, which confirms what Bacon says 
in cipher, that he sometimes used what he wrote a second time 
to serve another purpose. Take "Locrine," "Selimus," and 
"Tamburlaine," and compare them with work attributed to 
Spenser. In the " Faerie Queene," published in 1590, the story 
of Locrine is told, but later it was dramatized, as appears by 
the Stationers' Register, and published in quarto in 1595 as 
a "Shakespeare" play, and included in the "Shakespeare" 
Folio of 1664. "Tamburlaine" was published in 1590, and 
"Selimus" in 1594. This, however, is not proof of the dates 
of their composition. " Selimus," like many other anonymous 
works, wandered fatherless until 1866, when Dr. Grosart as- 
sumed the liberty of appropriating it, as others had been doing 
in like instances, and included it in his edition of Greene. 

The passages we quote are intended to illustrate our con- 
tention, that early poems drifting about previous to 161 1, 
when they were gathered into the "Spenser" Folio of that 
date, were laid under contribution by their author to serve 
him in dramatic composition. The reader, knowing by repute 
the nominal authors of the works from which we quote, but 
unfamiliar with the works themselves, will be surprised by 
these comparisons which we make. The " Spenser" excerpts are 

464 



A LITERARY SYNCRISIS 

from the "Spenser" Folio of 1611, from Grosart's "Greene,'* 
and from "Locrine," in the "Shakespeare" Folio of 1664. 

Spenser: High on a hill a goodly Cedar grewe 

Of wondrous length and streight proportion 
That farre abroad her daintie odours threwe; 
Mongst all the daughters of proud Lebanon. 

Greene: Even as the lustie cedar worne with yeares, 
That farre abroad her daintie odore throwes, 
Mongst all the daughters of proud Lebanon. 

Locrine, i, i. 

Spenser: A mighty Lyon, lord of all the wood 

Having his hunger thoroughly satisfide 
With pray of beasts and spoyle of living blood 
Safe in his dreadles den him thought to hide. 

Greene: A Mightie Lion ruler of the woods, 

Of wondrous strength and great proportion, — 
Traverst the groves, and chast the wandring beast. 

Locrine y u 

Spenser: A hideous Dragon, dreadfull to behold. 

Whose backe was arm'd against the dint of speare. 

With shields of brasse that shone like burnisht gold, 

Strove with a Spider his unequall peare; 

And bad defiance to his enemie. 

The subtill vermin, creeping closely neare. 

Did in his drinke shed poyson privilie; 

Which through his entrailes spredding diversly. 

Made him to swell, that nigh his bowells burst. 

Greene: High on a banke by Nilus boystrous streames. 
Fearfully sat the Aegiptian Crocodile, — 
His back was armde against the dint of speare, 
With shields of brasse that shind like burnisht gold — 
A subtill Adder creeping closely neare — 
Privily shead his poison through his bones 
Which made him swel that there his bowels burst. 

Locrine, in. 

This is from the "Ruins of Time," which it may be well to 
notice was written at St. Albans: — 

Nigh where the goodly Verlame (Verulam) stood of Yore. 
Spenser: But what can long abide above this ground 
In state of blis or stedfast happiness. 
465 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Greene: Oh what may long abide above this ground, 
In state of blisse and healthfull happinesse. 

Locrine, i. 

This is from the "Ruins of Rome": — 

Spenser: O that I had the Thracian Poets harpe 
For to awake out of th' infernall shade, 
Those antique Caesars, sleeping long in darke, 
The which this ancient Citie whilome made! 
Or that I had Amphions instrument 
To quicken with his vitall notes accord 
The Stonie joynts of these old walls now pent 
By which the Ausonian light might be restor'd! 

Greene: O that I had Thracian Orpheus harpe 
For to awake out of the infernall shade 
Those ougly divels of black Erebus, 
That might torment the damned traitors soule: 
O that I had Amphions instrument 
To quicken with his vitall notes and tunes 
The flintie joynts of everie stonie rocke, 
By which the Scithians might be punished. 

Locrine, iii, i. 

Spenser: To dart abroad the thunderbolts of warre 

And beating downe these walls with furious word — 

Heapt hils on hils to scale the starry skie 

And fight against the gods of heavenly berth, 

Whiles Jove at them his thunderbolts let flie; 

All suddenly with lightning overthrowe, 

The furious squadrons downe to ground did fall. — 

Like as ye see the wrathfull sea from farre 

In a great mouttaine heapt with hideous noyse, 

Eftsoones of thousand billowes shouldred narre, 

Against a rocke to breake with dreadfull poyse. 

Tossing huge tempests through the troubled skie. 

Greene: Darteth abroad the thunderbolts of warre 

Beating downe millions with his furious moode; 
And in his glorie triumphs over all, 
Moving the massie squadrants of the ground; 
Heape hills on hills, to scale the starrie skie. 
When Briareus armed with an hundreth hands 
Floong forth an hundreth mountains at great Jove, 
And when the monstrous giant Monichus 
Hurld mount Olimpus at great Mars his targe, 

466 



A LITERARY SYNCRISIS 

And shot huge cedars at Minervas shield; 
How doth he overlooke with hautie front 
My fleeting hostes, and lifts his loftie face 
Against us all that now do feare his force, 
Like as we see the wrathfull sea from farre 
In a great mountaine heapt with hideous noise 
With thousand billowes beat against the ships, 
And toss them in the waves like tennis balls. 

Locrine, ii, 5. 

Marlowe: What means this devilish shepherd to aspire 
With such a giantly presumption, 
To cast up hills against the face of heaven, 
And dare the force of angry Jupiter? — 
As Juno, when the giants were suppress'd. 
That darted mountains at her brother Jove. 

Tamhurlaine, 11, 6. 

We will now quote from the "Faerie Queene," Folio of 
1611: — 

Spenser: As when a wearie traveller, that strayes. 

By muddy shore of broad seven-mouthed Nile, 
Doth meete a cruell craftie crocodile. 
Which, in false griefe hyding his harmfull guile. 
Doth weepe full sore, etc. 

Marlowe: Even as the great Egyptian crocodile 
Wanting his prey, with artificial tears 
And feigned plaints, his subtle tongue doth file. 
To entrap the silly wandering traveller. 

Spenser: Upon the top of all his loftie crest, 

A bounch of heares discolourd diversly. 

With sprincled pearle and gold full richly drest, 

Did shake, and seemed to daunce for jollity; 

Like to an almond tree ymounted hye 

On top of greene Selinus all alone. 

With blossoms brave bedecked daintily; 

Whose tender locks do tremble every one 

At everie little breath, that under heaven is blowne. 

Marlowe: I'll ride in golden armour like the sun 

And in my helm a triple plume shall spring 
Spangled with diamonds dauncing in the air, 
To note the emperor of the three-fold world; 

467 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Like to an almond-tree ymounted high 

Upon the lofty and celestial mount 

Of ever-greene Selinus, quaintly deck'd 

With blooms more white than Erycina's brows, 

Whose tender blossoms tremble every one 

At every little breath that thorough heaven is blowne. 

Tamburlaine, iv, 3. 

Spenser: To decke his herce, and trap his tomb-black steed. 
Greene: And who are these covered in tomb-black hearse? 

Selimus, 11, 1265. 

Spenser: And make his carkas as the outcast dong? 
Greene: Shall make thy carcase as the outcast dung. 

Sel. I, 672. 
Spenser: A gentle shepheard in Sweete eventide — 

A cloud of cumbrous gnattes doe him molest. 

Greene: And like a shepherd mongst a swarm of gnats. 

Sel. II, 2477. 
Spenser: As he had travelld many a sommers day 

Through boyling sands of Arabic and Ynde. 

Greene: That hath his steps guided through many lands 
Through boiling soil of Africa and Ind. 

Sel. II, 2523. 
Sel. Now Bajazet will ban another while 
And utter curses to the concave skie 
Which may infect the aiery regions. 

Log. Where I may damne, condemne and ban my fill, — 
And utter curses to the concave skie 
Which may infect the aiery regions. 

Sel. More bloodie than the Antropophagie 

That fill their hungry stomachs with men's flesh. 

Loc. Or where the bloodie Anthrophagie 

With greedie jaws devours the wandring wights. 

Numerous similarities of expression are found in Mariowe*s 
"Dido," "Dr. Faustus/' and the "Jew of Malta." 

These are but a few of hundreds of examples of the close 
parallelism in thought and expression which exist in works 
accredited to Spenser, Greene, Peele, and Marlowe whose 

468 



A LITERARY SYNCRISIS 

"mighty line" is so conspicuous in them all, as well as in the 
"Shakespeare" Works, that one theorist, at least, has as- 
cribed the latter to him. Bacon says that he tried to vary his 
style to fit the names he used, yet was aware of his failure. 

Why write I still all one, ever the same, 

And keep invention in a noted weed 

That every word doth almost tell my name, 

Showing their birth, and where they did proceed. 

Sonnet, 76. 

The claim of the decipherers that Bacon was the author of 
certain works which have been ascribed to Peele, Greene, 
Marlowe, and others, as startling as it appears, finds support 
in their lives, and especially in the character of their work. It 
is in the works of these three authors especially that Strat- 
fordians claim to find the Shaksperian style of expression, 
and many of them assert, as we have seen, that the author of 
"Hamlet" collaborated with them. All were men of corrupt 
lives, who hung about the playhouses, picking up a living as 
occasional actors, playwrights, and literary hacks ; but are now 
regarded as pioneers in the English Renaissance. 

Our first biography of Peele is by Dyce,^ but a better has 
since been written by Bullen.^ 

PEELE 

His father, James Peele, a clerk of Christ's Hospital, ap- 
pears from entries in the Court Book to have been very poor. 
George is supposed to have been born in 1552-53. By the help 
of the hospital he received his degree of B.A. at Oxford in 
1577. Two years later his father was ordered "to discharge 
his howse of his sonne — and all other his howsold." BuUen 
says that "no doubt he had been carrying on high jinks at the 
Hospital with his roystering companions, and the Court was 
scandalized." He went to London, where he was living in 158 1, 

* Alexander Dyce, B.A., The Works of George Peele. London, 1828. 
« A. H. Bullen, BA., The Works of George Peele. London, 1888. 

469 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

and was married in 1583. At college he was regarded as a 
writer of some merit, and on several occasions assisted in 
dramatic exhibitions at Christ Church. He was a degenerate, 
and in a vile book of jests which he wrote, he ''figures," says 
Bullen, " as a shifty, cozening companion, ever on the elert to 
bilk hostesses and tapsters ; and reversing Martial's lasciva est 
pagina vita proha^' Bullen concludes, "his verse was honest, 
but his life wanton." Chambers more mildly remarks that he 
was not overscrupulous as to the means of relieving his ne- 
cessities, and places him among dramatists, but not poets of 
his time. His career was, of course, short, for Meres thus re- 
cords the end, which might have occurred some years earlier : 
"As Anacreon died by the pot, so George Peele by the pox" ; ^ 
and Bullen adds, "A sad death for one who had sung The 
Praise of Chastitie." 

THE ARRAIGNMENT OF PARIS 

The two plays claimed for Bacon must have been very early 
productions. "The Arraignment of Paris " was a pastoral pub- 
lished several years after the death of Peele, and was played 
before the Queen by the Children of the Chapel. The dramatis 
personce comprise the Gods, Goddesses, Cupids, Cyclops, 
Shepherds, Knights, and others, among whom are the char- 
acters with which we are familiar in the " Shepherd's Calen- 
dar," Hobbinol, Thenot, Diggon, and Colin Clout. 

The following is from the Prologue of the first edition 1584: — 

Enter Ate. 

Condemned soule Ate, from lowest hell, 
And deadlie rivers of the infernall Jove 
Where bloudles ghostes in paines of endles date 
Fill ruthles eares with never ceasing cries, 
Beholde I come in place, and bring beside 
The bane of Troie: beholde the fatall frute 
Raught from the golden tree of Proserpine, 
Proude Troy must fall, so bidde the gods above, 

^ Francis Meres, Palladis Tamia. London, 1598. 
470 



A LITERARY SYNCRISIS 

And statelie Iliums loftie towers be racet 

By conquering handes of the victorious foe: 

King Priams pallace waste with flaming fire, 

Whose thicke and foggie smoake peircing the skie, 

Must serve for messenger of sacrifice 

T' appeaze the anger of the angrie heavens. 

The play comprises some pleasant pastoral scenes ; the meet- 
ing of Pan, Faunus, and Silvanus to welcome the Goddesses 
Juno, Venus, and Pallas to Mount Ida, with a song by Pan : — 

The God of sheepeheardes and his mates, 
With countrie chere salutes your states: 
Faire, wise, and worthie as you bee, 
And thanke the gracious Ladies three, 
For honour done to Ida. 

This is followed by a passage in the loves of Paris and 
(Enone, in which Paris is warned against faithlessness in love : 

Gen. And whereon then shall be my Roundelay: 

For thou hast hearde my stoore long since, dare say, 

Of Daphne turned into the laurel-tree, 

That shows a mirrow of virginity; 

How fair Narcissus tooting in his shade. 

Reproves disdain, and tells how form doth fade; 

How cunning Philomela's needle tells 

What force in love, what wit in sorrow dwells; 

What pains unhappy souls abide in hell. 

They say because on earth they lived not well, — 

Ixion's wheel, proud Tantal's pining woe, 

Prometheus' torment, and a many mo, 

How Danaus' daughters ply their endless task, 

What toil the toil of Sisyphus doth ask; 

All these are old and known I know, yet, if thou wilt have any. 

Choose some of these, for, trust me, else CEnone hath not many. 
Par. Nay, what thou wilt; but sith my cunning not compares with 
thine. 

Begin some toy that I can play upon this pipe of mine. 
(En. There is a pretty sonnet, then, we call it Cupid's Curse, 

"They that do change old love for new, pray gods they change for 
worse!" 

The note is fine and quick withal, the ditty will agree, 

Paris, with that same vow of thine upon our poplar-tree. 
Par. No better thing; begin it, then: Qinone, thou shalt see 

Our music figure of the love that grows 'twixt thee and me. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

The scene ends, — 

(En. Sweet shepherd, for CEnone's sake be cunning in this song, 

And keep thy love, and love thy choice, or else thou dost her 
wrong. 
Par. My vow is made and witnessed, the poplar will not start, 

Nor shall the nymph CEnone's love from forth my breathing 

heart. 
I will go bring thee on thy way, my flock are here behind. 
And I will have a lover's fee; they say, unkiss'd unkind. 

(Exeunt.) 

Venus, Juno, and Pallas now appear, discover Paris alone, 
and, giving him a golden apple, bid him bestow it upon the 
one he considers most beautiful. Juno tempts him with a vi- 
sion of a golden tree laden with diadems and crowns of gold ; 
Pallas, with a vision of knights in armor, " treading a warlike 
almain by drum and fife"; and Venus, by a vision of Helen, 
attended by Cupids, who ravishes him by a love-song. Faithless 
to CEnone, he bestows the golden apple upon the wily Venus. 

Colin Clout, the passionate shepherd, appears with other 
shepherds, and Colin sings : — 

O gentle love, ungentle for thy deede. 

This is succeeded by CEnone who fills the woods with her 
complaint of Paris, which is heard by Mercury who espouses 
her cause. 

In the mean time the jealousy of Juno and Pallas is brought 
to bear upon Jupiter, and the arraignment of Paris before the 
high Court of the Gods is decided upon. Mercury bears the 
tidings to Venus: — 

Mer. Faire lady Venus, let me pardoned bee 

That have of longe bin well beloved of thee, 

Yf as my office bids, my selfe first brings 

To my sweete Madame these unwellcome tydings. 

Fen. What nues, what tydings, gentle Mercuric, 
In midest of my delites to troble me. 

Mer. At Junoes sute, Pallas assisting her, 

Sythe bothe did joyne in sute to Jupiter, 
Action is entred in the court of heaven, 

472 



A LITERARY SYNCRISIS 

And me, the swyftest of the Planets seaven, 
With warant they have thence despatcht away 
To apprehende and finde the man, they say. 

The Gods having assembled in Diana's bower, Venus ap- 
pears with Paris before them, teUing him : — 

Then bashe not, sheepeherde, in so good a case, 
And friendes thou hast, as well as foes in place. 

The defense of Paris is perhaps the best part of the pas- 
toral : — 

Sacred and just, thou great and dreadful Jove, 

And you thrice reverende powers, whom love nor hate, 

May wrest awry, if this to me a man. 

This fortune fatall bee, that I must pleade, 

For safe excusall of my giltles thought, 

The honour more makes my mishap the lesse. 

That I a man must pleade before the gods. 

Gracious forbearers of the worldes amisse. 

For her, whose beautie how it hath enticet, 

This heavenly senate may with me aver. 

But sith nor that, nor this may doe me boote, 

And for my selfe, my selfe must speaker bee, 

A mortall man, amidst this heavenlie presence: 

Let me not shape a longe defence, to them. 

That ben beholders of my giltles thoughtes. 

Then for the deede, that I may not denie, 

Wherein consists the full of myne offence, 

I did upon commande: if then I erde, 

I did no more than to a man belong'd. 

And if in verdit of their formes devine. 

My dazled eye did swarve or surfet more 

On Venus face, than anie face of theirs: 

It was no partiall fault, but fault of his 

Belike, whose eysight not so perfect was. 

As might decerne the brightnes of the rest. 

And if it were permitted unto men 

(Ye gods) to parle with your secret thoughtes, 

There ben that sit upon that sacred seate. 

That woulde with Paris erre in Venus prayse. 

But let me cease to speake of errour here: 

Sith what my hande, the organ of my harte, 

Did give with good agreement of myne eye, 

My tongue is voyde with processe to maintaine. 

473 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

To this Pluto exclaims : — 

A jolly Sheepeherde, wise and eloquent. 

The decision is given by Jupiter : — 

Goe take thy way to Troie, and there abide thy fate. 

The golden apple is given to Diana to bestow upon whom 
according to her judgment she thinks most worthy to possess 
it. Venus, Juno, and Pallas appear before her with confidence, 
each praising her sense of justice in sugared terms. Each vows 
to accept her decision. 

Dia. It is enough, and goddesses attende: 

There wons within these pleasaunt shady woods, 

Where neither storme nor Suns distemperature 

Have power to hurte by cruell heate or colde, 

Under the clymate of the milder heaven, 

Where seldome lights Joves angrie thunderbolt. 

For favour of that soveraygne earthly peere: 

Where whystling windes make musick 'mong the trees, 

Far from disturbance of our countrie gods, 

Amids the Cypres springes a gratious Nymphe, 

That honours Dian for her chastitie, 

And likes the labours well of Phoebes groves: 

The place Elizium hight, and of the place, 

Her name that governes there Eliza is, 

A kingdome that may well compare with mine. 

An auncient seat of kinges, a seconde Troie, 

Ycompast rounde with a commodious sea: 

Her people are ycleeped Angeli. 

The golden apple is bestowed upon Queen Elizabeth with 
the approval of the three goddesses. 

This may seem a somewhat exaggerated ending, but it is 
well within the manner of the time. It should be remarked 
that gentle Colin comes to his end in this pastoral, which is in 
the line of the masques which Bacon so often presented at 
Court, keeping himself always in the background. To him we 
know that Jonson accredits those of which he was supposed to 
be the author. Of its merits and demerits it is plain to any one 
of critical judgment that, as a whole, it cannot take rank with 

474 



A LITERARY SYNCRISIS 

the better handiwork to be found in the "Shakespeare" 
Works, but averages fairly with much in some of the early- 
plays, and is especially suggestive of the early style of the 
author of the "Spenser" Works. 

DAVID AND BETHSABE 

This work has been regarded more favorably than the "Ar- 
raignment." The date of its composition is unknown. The 
following is the Prologue : — 

Of Israel's sweetest singer now I sing, 

His holy style and happy victories; 

Whose muse was dipt in that inspiring dew, 

Archangels 'stilled from the breath of Jove, 

Decking her temples with the glorious flowers 

Heaven rain'd on tops of Sion and Mount Sinai. 

Upon the bosom of his ivory lute 

The cherubim and angels laid their breasts; 

And when his consecrated fingers struck 

The golden wires of his ravishing harp, 

He gave alarum to the host of heaven. 

That, wing'd with lightning, brake the clouds, and cast 

Their crystal armour at his conquering feet. 

Of this sweet poet, Jove's musician. 

And of his beauteous son, I press to sing; 

Then help, divine Adonai, to conduct 

Upon the wings of my well-temper'd verse, 

The hearers' minds above the towers of heaven. 

And guide them so in this thrice haughty flight. 

Their mounting feathers scorch not with the fire 

That none can temper but thy holy hand: 

To thee for succour flies my feeble muse. 

And at her feet her iron pen doth use. 

Bethsabe and her maid bathing. King David above 



The Song 

Hot sun, cool fire, temper'd with sweet air. 
Black shade, fair nurse, shadow my white hair: 
Shine sun, burn fire, breathe air and ease me, 
Black shade, fair nurse, shroud me and please me; 
Shadow (my sweet nurse) keep me from burning, 
Make not my glad cause, cause of mourning. 

475 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 



Let not my beauty's fire 
Inflame unstaid desire, 
Nor pierce any bright eye 
That wandereth lightly. 
Bethsabe. Come, gentle zephyr, trick'd with those perfumes 
That erst in Eden sweeten'd Adam's love, 
And stroke my bosom with the silken fan: 
This shade (sun proof) is yet no proof for thee; 
Thy body, smoother than this waveless spring, 
And purer than the substance of the same. 
Can creep through that his lances cannot pierce. 
Thou and thy sister, soft and sacred air, 
Goddess of life and governess of health, 
Keeps every fountain fresh and arbour sweet; 
No brazen gate her passage can repulse, 
Nor bushy thicket bar their subtle breath. 
Then deck thee with thy loose delightsome robes, 
And on thy wings bring delicate perfumes, 
To play the wantons with us through the leaves. 
David. What tunes, what words, what looks, what wonders pierce 
My soul, incensed with a sudden fire! 
What tree, what shade, what spring, what paradise, 
Enjoys the beauty of so fair a dame! 
Fair Eva, plac'd in perfect happiness, 
Lending her praise-notes to the liberal heavens, 
Struck with the accents of archangels' tunes. 
Wrought not more pleasure to her husband's thoughts 
Than this fair woman's words and notes to mine. 
May that sweet plain that bears her pleasant weight, 
Be still enamell'd with discolour'd flowers; 
That precious fount bear sand of purest gold; 
And for the pebble, let the silver streams 
That pierce earth's bowels to maintain the source. 
Play upon rubies, sapphires, crysolites; 
The brim let be embrac'd with golden curls 
Of moss that sleeps with sound the waters make 
For joy to feed the fount with their recourse; 
Let all the grass that beautifies her bower, 
Bear manna every morn, instead of dew; 
Or let the dew be sweeter far than that 
That hangs like chains of pearl on Hermon hill, 
Or balm which trickled from old Aaron's beard. 

Enter Cusay 

See, Cusay, see the flower of Israel, 
The fairest daughter that obeys the king, 

476 



A LITERARY SYNCRISIS 

In all the land the Lord subdued to me, 
Fairer than Isaac's lover at the well, 
Brighter than inside bark of new-hewn cedar, 
Sweeter than flames of fine perfumed myrrh; 
And comelier than the silver clouds that dance 
On zephyr's wings before the King of Heaven. 

Cusay. Is it not Bethsabe the Hethite's wife, 
Urias, now at Rabath siege with Joab? 

David. Go now and bring her quickly to the king; 

Tell her, her graces have found grace with him. 

Cusay. I will, my lord. {Exit.) 

David. Bright Bethsabe shall wash in David's bower 
In water mixed with purest almond flower. 
And bathe her beauty in the milk of kids; 
Bright Bethsabe gives earth to my desires, 
Verdure to earth, and to that verdure flowers, 
To flowers sweet odours, and to odours wings. 
That carries pleasures to the hearts of kings. 

Now comes my lover tripping like the roe. 
And brings my longings tangled in her hair. 
To 'joy her love I'll build a kingly bower, 
Seated in hearing of a hundred streams, 
That, for their homage to her sovereign joys. 
Shall, as the serpents fold into their nests, 
In oblique turnings wind the nimble waves 
About the circles of her curious walks. 
And with their murmur summon easeful sleep. 
To lap his golden sceptre on her brows. 

Lamb condemns the work as a whole, but speaks with ad- 
miration of the line " Seated in hearing of a hundred streams," 
which Chambers calls, "indeed a noble poetic image," which 
is almost precisely what Spedding says with regard to the 
same line in one of Bacon's hymns, while Hawkins, in his 
** Origin of the English Drama," gives it unstinted praise, 
quoting especially the lines — 

At him the thunder shall discharge its bolt. 
And his fair spouse with bright and fiery wings. 
Sit ever burning in his hateful robes; — 

which he calls "a metaphor worthy of ^schylus." 
The opinion that these compositions are above Peek's 

477 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

mark is hardly questionable, but if ascribed to the author of 
the "Shakespeare" Works, they rank well with those of in- 
ferior merit, for it is beyond question that in these works there 
are wide disparities, of which "Andronicus" and "Hamlet" 
are good illustrations. 

Of " King Edward First," which is preserved in a mutilated 
form, and which has been thought by some to belong to the 
"Shakespeare" historical dramas, it is necessarily unsatis- 
factory on account of its imperfections. That works of the 
Elizabethan period have been erroneously accredited to au- 
thors cannot be doubted. BuUen says, for instance, of "Sir 
Clyomon and Sir Clamydes"; — 

I strongly doubt whether it has been properly assigned to 
Peele, — I suspect that it was written by some such person as 
Richard Edwards, when Peele was in his teens. ^ 

Were it not for the strong individuality stamped in varying 
degrees upon all the "Shakespeare "dramas, which have found 
a place in the Canon, it is probable that several would have 
been discarded. 

We have given the reader, who, at the sacrifice of time and 
patience, has accompanied us thus far, as brief a view as possi- 
ble of these misprized works of still questioned parentage, in 
order that he might get a fair understanding of their relation- 
ship to the greatest of literary problems. He will have seen by 
this time that the gist of our thesis is, that they, and the canon- 
ized works which we have discussed, are all the work, some 
of it immature, of one man, who " took all knowledge as his 
province," and devoted his best energies to an Advancement 
of Learning which was the crying need of his time. We realize 
that it devolves upon us to furnish the reader with convinc- 
ing evidence of this, and we hope to do so should he continue 
to accord us his companionship. 

^ The Works of George Peele. London, 1888. 



XIV 

MASKS 

ROBERT GREENE 

Was a boon companion of Peele and a profligate of the vilest 
type, quite the equal of Peele in evil courses. The date of his 
birth is not known with certainty. He is said to have been born 
at Norwich; Dyce places the date at 1550, and Grosart, at 
1560. We are told that he entered as a sizar at St. John's, 
Cambridge, in 1578, leaving, says Grosart, in 1585. He de- 
nominates him "a cleric," and "red nosed minister," assert- 
ing that he was Vicar of LoUesbury, Essex, in 1584.^ Foster 
("Alumni Oxonienses") records him as being "incorporated at 
Oxford 1588." He left an autobiographical sketch printed in 
1596. In it, after describing some of his villainies he naively 
says : — 

Young yet in years, though old in wickedness, I began to re- 
solve that there was nothing bad that was not profitable; where- 
upon I grew so rooted in all mischief, that I had as great a 
delight in wickedness as sundry have in godliness, and as much 
felicity I took in villany as others did in honesty. 

A recent biographer, following for the most part Greene's 
own account, says : — 

That Greene was married is certain, — Dyce thinks in 1 586, — 
and it is as certain, that although on his own authority his wife 
was a most amiable and loving woman, he ere long forsook her 
to indulge without restraint his passion for debauchery and 
every species of self-indulgence. After leaving his wife, he lived 
with a woman, the sister of an infamous character, well known 
then under the name of "Cutting Ball," and by her he had a son 
who died in the year after his father. After leading one of the 

^ A. B. Grosart, The Life and Complete Works of Robert Greene. London, 1887. 

479 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

maddest lives on record, he died a miserable death on the 3d of 
September, 1592, his last illness being caused by a debauch. On 
his deathbed he was deserted by all his former boon conpanions 
except his mistress, and was indebted to the wife of a poor shoe- 
maker for the last bed on which he laid his miserable body — his 
dying injunction to his compassionate and admiring hostess be- 
ing to crown his vain head after death with a garland of bays. 
This request, it seems, the poor woman attended to.^ 

Yet Grosart was influenced by a single passage in "Selimus** 
to accredit it to Greene. This is his remarkable confession: 
"One specific passage by itself would have determined me as- 
signing 'Selimus' to Greene." He could have found scores to 
have warranted him equally in assigning it to Spenser. 

A number of works have been assigned him, the authorship 
of which even his biographers question. Professor Brown de- 
clares that "in style . . . Greene is father of Shakespeare"; 
that "'James IV' is the first Elizabethan historical play out- 
side Shakespeare, and is worthy to be placed on a level with 
Shakespeare's earlier style"; and he thinks "Shakespeare 
followed Greene's example in the 'Taming of the Shrew' and 
'Midsummer Night's Dream'"; Tieck, who translated the 
" Pinner of Wakefield" declares it to be "one of Shakespeare's 
juvenile productions." 

CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE 

Was, if possible, a greater reprobate than his pot-compan- 
ions, for to his evil accomplishments was added the temper of 
the bravo. Even less is known about him than of Peele or of 
Greene. He is said to have been the son of a shoemaker, John 
Marlowe, born at Canterbury, February, 1563-64, and granted 
the degree of B.A. in 1585, and M.A. in 1587, at Benet College, 
Cambridge ; went to London shortly after he became an actor, 
but, it is said, had to resign, having broken his leg "in a lewd 
scene." His career was brief, as he died June i, 1593, a few 

^ The Works of the British Dramatists, p. yj. New York, n.d. 

480 



MASKS 

months after Greene. The account of his death by Vaughan is 
as follows : — 

It so happened, that at Deptford, a little village about three 
miles from London, as he (Marlowe) meant to stab with his 
poignard one named Archer that had Invited him thither to a 
feast, and was then playing at tables; he (Archer) quickly per- 
ceiving it, so avoided the thrust, that withal drawing out his 
dagger for his own defence, he stabbed this Marlowe in the eye 
in such sort, that his brains coming out at the dagger's point, he 
shortly after died. 

Another authority says that it was Marlowe's own dagger 
which Archer turned against him; and from Mere's "Wit's 
Treasury" we learn that Archer was " a bawdy serving man, a 
rival of his lewd love." ^ 

To Marlowe, as to Peele and Greene, it has been convenient 
for editors to accredit unfathered works. As "Tamburlalne" 
was a very early work, to account for its supposed authorship 
by Marlowe, he is said to have written it before leaving college. 
In the case of Marlowe we are disturbed by the same clash of 
opinions that we have seen in that of Peele and Greene. Lee 
unwittingly delights us by this decisive pronouncement : — 

Kyd and Greene, among rival writers of tragedy, left more 
or less definite Impression on all Shakespeare's early eff'orts in 
tragedy. It was, however, only to two of his fellow dramatists 
that his indebtedness as a writer of either comedy or tragedy 
was material or emphatically defined. Superior as Shakespeare's 
powers were to those of Marlowe, his coadjutor In "Henry VI," 
his early tragedies often reveal him in the character of a faithful 
disciple of that vehement delineator of tragic passion. Shake- 
speare's early comedies disclose a like relationship between him 
and Lyly.2 

Also in the Dictionary of National Biography, says Lee : — 

There Is Internal proof that Marlowe worked on earlier plays 
of Shakespeare. . . . All the blank verse In Shakespeare's early 
plays bear the stamp of Marlowe's inspiration. 

* William Vaughan, The Golden Grove. London, 1600. Cf. Grosart. 

* Lee, A Life of Shakespeare, p. 61. 

481 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 
Says White : — 

The "Taming of the Shrew" is the joint production of Greene, 
Marlowe, and possibly Shakespeare. 

Says Ingram ("Marlowe and his Associates"): — 

His words and thoughts are so noble, and his sentiments so 
lofty, that the mind revolts at seeing his name coupled with the 
debauched and dissolute desperadoes it has been customary to 
link it with.^ 

If space permitted we could fill many pages with such 
utterly misleading opinions, and a volume could be written 
showing the works unwarrantably attributed to him to be 
saturated with thoughts which found expression in works of 
"Shakespeare" and Bacon. While we have already spoken of 
this, we should call attention to a notable instance of it in 
the "Taming of a Shrew" published in 1594. This play dis- 
closes the fact that it contains passage after passage duplicat- 
ing parts of "Marlowe's" "Tamburlaine" and "Faustus." 
We quote but two : — 

Eternal heaven sooner be dissolved, 
And all that pierceth Phoebus' silver eye, 
Before such hap befall to Pollidor. 

Taming of a Shrew, in, 6. 

Eternal Heaven sooner be dissolv'd. 
And all that pierceth Phoebus' silver eye, 
Before such hap fall to Zenocrate. 

Tamburlaine, in, 2. 

Thou shalt have garments wrought of Median silk, 
Enchas't with precious Jewels fetcht from far. 

Taming of a Shrew, in, 2. 

Thy garments shall be made of Median silk, 
Enchas't with precious jewels of mine own. 

Tamburlaine, i, 2. 

^ Cf. Rev. Alexander Dyce, The Works of Christopher Marlowe, p. xxv. Lon- 
don, 1850. 

482 



MASKS 

The perplexed critics have generally avoided falling into 
the trap of calling this plagiarism, realizing that contempo- 
rary writers for the same audience would hardly venture to 
copy from each other word for word, and so they have juggled 
with various theories, one being that Marlowe wrote the 
"Taming of a Shrew." It should be noticed that this Quarto 
held public attention until the publication of the Folio in 
1623, twenty-nine years after its publication, when the play 
appeared, like many other of the "Shakespeare" plays, re- 
written and improved, as if by the maturer hand of its author, 
the being substituted for a in the title. This furnished an op- 
portunity for theorists to call the "Taming of a Shrew" an 
"old play"; but here they met with difficulties, because the 
story of Sly and so many other parts of the text of the Quarto 
are preserved in the Folio. The conclusion therefore is, 
"Shakespeare" helped another man to rewrite it. This is 
what White says: "In the 'Taming of the Shrew' three hands 
are at least traceable ; that of the author of the old play, that 
of Shakespeare himself, and that of a co-laborer." ^ 

Says Lee: "Evidence of style — the liberal introduction of 
tags of Latin and the exceptional beat of the doggerel — 
makes it difficult to allot the Bianca scenes to Shakespeare; 
those scenes were probably due to a coadjutor." ^ 

Since Bacon's authorship of the "Shakespeare" Works has 
become so widely acknowledged, the impossible theory has 
been advanced that he and the actor collaborated, but we ask 
again, is not all this theorizing put to rest by regarding the 
"Taming of a Shrew," and other early productions, as the less 
mature work of an author who later improved them, and that 
some of the "imperfections" are due to playwrights who 
staged the plays, or actors who indulged in improvisation? 
With respect to the amusing story of Sly, which is a para- 

^ Richard Grant White, The Works of William Shakespeare. Intro, to the 
Taming of the Shrezv. 1865. 

^ Sidney Lee, A Life of William Shakespeare, p. 164. 

483 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

phrase of a story of Philip the Good, Stratfordians once made 
a great deal. Even the "inn on the heath" kept by "Marian 
Racket, the fat alewife of Wincot,"was exhibited to the devo- 
tee; but alas! the "literary antiquary" has upset even this, 
and Sly is no more a Warwickshire man and neighbor of 
the actor. With respect to " Faustus," from which we have 
quoted, a singular fact has hitherto escaped attention. We 
find it entered on the Stationers' Register, January 7, 1600, 
by Thomas Bushell, Bacon's favorite disciple and " servant," 
and he held the copyright until September 13, 1610, when he 
assigned it to J. Wright. Bushell was young and needy, and 
as Bacon was always assisting him, what more natural for 
Bacon, who was then financially straitened, than to give him 
the manuscript of one of his early works, on which he might 
obtain a loan or a royalty ? This seems worthy of considera- 
tion. 

THOMAS KYD 

One of the most lawless assumptions in literary criticism of 
recent years is the introduction to a patient public of the au- 
thor of the " Shakespeare" Works in the role of an understudy 
to Thomas Kyd. It is an offense that ought to be actionable 
in any court of good-breeding; yet Lee thrusts "the sportive 
Kyd " upon our attention with a persistence that finally ex- 
cites amusement, though our English kinsmen prefer to adjust 
their monocles and regard the deft showman, as he springs his 
favorite jack-in-the-box upon them, as they do the perennial 
suffragette, with evident admiration. Who is Thomas Kyd ^ 
Nobody knew a few years ago, but, to get him into line, a 
genealogy was fashioned for him which would surprise a 
trained genealogist like Fitz Waters, or Colonel Chester. It is 
easy to find a name repeated at any period within a compara- 
tively short range of time. We know that in Warwickshire the 
Stratford actor had several contemporaries bearing his name, 
and in Scotland the same may be said of Walter Scott. In the 

484 



MASKS 

case of Kyd we may anticipate at any time a bulky volume 
of fatherless works, which for centuries have haunted the 
limbo of the unknown, brought out and groomed as his off- 
spring, for there is no knowing what may not happen when 
imaginative minds get to work in a field so attractive as 
he offers. "Yet," says Boas, speaking of "The Spanish 
Tragedy": — 

This is the only drama which can be with certainty ascribed to 
Kyd, except his paraphrase of "Cornelia" by the French writer, 
Garner. It Is possible that he wrote "Sellman and Perseda," 
whose theme Is briefly Introduced, as "a play within the play" 
Into "The Spanish Tragedy." The "First Part of Jeronlmo" 
may hav^e come from his hand. It deals with the events preced- 
ing the story of "The Spanish Tragedy," and may have been 
composed by Kyd before the more elaborate work. But this Is 
conjectural, and there is much to be said In favor of the view that 
"Jeronlmo" Is an expansion in dramatic form of the opening 
narrative In "The Spanish Tragedy" of an anonymous play- 
wright, anxious to make capital out of the popularity of the 
subject. 

It will be seen from this that conjectures respecting sup- 
posed works of Kyd have already begun. It will be easy for a 
man hke Lee to convert these guesses into certainties. With 
respect to his genealogy Boas says : — 

It has been recently suggested with great plausibility, that 
the dramatist may be Identified with the Thomas Kydd, son of 
Francis, scrivener, entered at Merchant Taylor's School, October 
26, 1565. In this case Nash's famous reference In the preface to 
Green's "Menaphon" to "the shifting companions that leave the 
trade of Noverint whereto they were born and busle themselves 
with the endeavours of art," probably alludes to Kyd, and not to 
Shakspere, as has been sometimes supposed.^ 

This is all the grossest speculation, but while Boas is cau- 
tious about committing himself too positively, such guesses 

^ See further on this subject Thomas Kyd undsein Kreis, by Gregor Sarrazin, 
chaps. II and v. Shakspere and his Predecessors, by Frederick S. Boas, M.A., p. 
62. New York, 1910. Cf. Boas, The JVorks of Thomas Kyd. Oxford, 1901. 

485 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

are already crystallizing into positive statements, and their 
scope is being enlarged. As the term "noverint," which we 
have elsewhere explained was intended to signify that the per- 
son to whom it was applied was a lawyer, it should alone in- 
validate this futile specimen of dreary speculation, unless valid 
proof can be adduced to sustain his connection with the pro- 
fession. It may be observed that, while they were living, the 
names of these men were unknown on the title-pages of the 
books now accredited to them. Would they not have been only 
too glad to have their names exploited on title-pages, instead 
of having to content themselves with nominal authorship 
among contemporaries.? 

BURTON 

The "Anatomy of Melancholy" first appeared in 1621 
under the pen-name of "Democritus, Jr.," and contained an 
"Address to the Reader" of 72 pages and 783 numbered pages 
ending with "Finis." Bound with it is an "Epilogue" of six 
pages unnumbered in which are these words, "The last section 
shall be mine to cut the strings of Democritus' vizor, to un- 
maske and show him as he is." This is dated, "From my 
studie in Christ Church, Oxford, December 5, 1620," and 
signed "Robert Burton." No other edition has these leaves, 
which do not appear to form any part of the book, but to have 
been added after printing as an afterthought. Strangely 
enough in his Address the author makes this startling state- 
ment, "I will yet to satisfie and please myselfe, make an 
Utopia of mine owne, a new Atlantis^ a poetical commonwealth 
of mine owne, in which I will freely domineere, build cities, 
make lawes, statues, as I list myselfe"; which is just what 
Bacon did not long after in his "New Atlantis." 

The "Anatomy" seems to have been the only book pub- 
lished under Burton's name, though in his will he left his ex- 
ecutor to dispose of " all such Books as are written with my 
own hand." He also left for disposal "half my Melancholy 

486 



^^ve^ A -^^-^ 



TREATISE OF 



MELANCHOLIE. 



7d 



€L 



CONTAINING THE CAVSES 
theicof. &rcafcniofthcftrangeefllftsitwc.ikcth 
in our mind^ and bodies: wiih the phifit ke curc,and 
Ipuitiiall coiifolatjon for fiichas hauc ihcrcujad* 
loyncd an affliftcd confciencc. 
Ihe difference betwixt it , and meUnthotie with diner ft 
phtiofjphicall difcourfo touching affins ^and afm 
feSions offouie,f^irit, and icd^: the f at- 
ficuiar.! vhcreofare to bifecng 
Lt fere' the bo()!^e. 




Imprinted at London by Thomas Vautrol- 
Jicr, du'cllinfzin the B!acl> 
Hicrs. 1^85. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Copy for Crips hath the other half." "Crips" was the pub- 
lisher. ^ 

Was Burton the real author of this work? In the British 
Museum is a copy of a book published in 1586, entitled "A 
Treatise of Melancholic," by T. Bright. We here give a photo- 
graph of its title-page made for us from this particular copy. 
It is noticeable that Bright, who was a writer as well as an 
M.D., resided at Cambridge in the earlier part of his life, and 
was an admirer of Lady Burghley, the sister of Lady Bacon. 
He died in 161 5. Burton in sketches of his life is said to have 
received his inspiration for the "Anatomy" from him. Burton 
died in 1640-41. In the "Cipher" we are told that both 
Bright and Burton were names under which Bacon wrote, and 
that the different editions contain different (cipher) stories. ^ 

At the time the "Treatise" was published. Burton was but 
eleven years of age. The inference from this would be that the 
"Treatise" was rewritten and enlarged in 1621, and published 
as the "Anatomy" under the pseudonym "Democritus" as 
Burton's work, one half of the copyright of which he owned in 
partnership with the printer. 

* The Anatomy of Melancholy, p. viii. Democritus, Jr. Philadelphia, 1853. 
Cf. Memoir in edition of Burton's Anatomy of 1800. Nichols's Leicester- 
shire, vol. Ill, p. 415. Hearne's Reliquiee, vol. i, p. 288. 

2 The Biliteral Cipher of Sir Francis Bacon (Introduction). 



XV 

THUMB MARKS 

The thumb mark has come to be recognized as infallible 
evidence of personal identity; in fact, there is no other evi- 
dence in our day of equal importance in determining identity; 
hence our application of the term in an investigation of what 
we believe to be the thumb marks of Francis Bacon upon the 
Folio of 1623 and elsewhere. 

One who studies the works published under the name of 
Bacon, and those under the name "Shakespeare," finds him- 
self at the end face to face with an astounding problem. Here 
are the same thoughts often expressed in the same manner, 
or modified to suit the occasion ; and since he knows the im- 
possibility of two minds thinking the same thoughts, and 
expressing them in like manner, though subject to differ- 
ent experiences through life, he is forced to the convic- 
tion that these works, though published under different 
names, are the product of one mind. Let us consider a few 
examples : — 

"The Tempest" discloses a familiar acquaintance with sea- 
faring terms, and the handling of a ship. In this play we find 
the knowledge which Bacon displays in his treatises entitled, 
"The Sailing of Ships"; "Versions of Bodies"; "Heat and 
Cold"; "Dense and Rare"; "The Ebb and Flow of the Sea"; 
and the "History of the Winds." "The Tempest" was one of 
his last, perhaps his very last drama, and these treatises were 
the result of his later studies. Bacon was associated with 
Southampton and others on the voyage which forms the sub- 
ject of this drama. Two copies of Strachey's "Historic of 

489 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Travaile into Virginia" still exist, one dedicated to Bacon, and 
the other to Sir Allen Apsley.^ 

A scene in " King Henry VI " is laid in the Temple Gardens. 
In this scene the rights to claimants to the throne are mooted. 

Yorke. (Plan) Great Lords and Gentlemen, what meanes this silence? 
Dare no man answer in a Case of Truth? 

Suff. Within the Temple Hall we were too low; 
The Garden here is more convenient. 

The scene ends thus : — 

Yorke. Thanks, gentle sirs. 

Come, let us foure to Dinner; I dare say 
This Quarrel will drink Blood another day, 

11, 4. 

"This reference to the Temple Gardens," says Edward J. 
Castle, Q.C., of the Temple, "not saying whether the Inner 
or the Middle Temple is meant, curiously enough points to 
the writer being a member of Gray's Inn. An Inner or a Mid- 
dle Temple man would have given his Inn its proper title." ^ 
Francis Bacon was a member of Gray's Inn. 

Two of the rules handed down for centuries prescribed that 
members should dine in fellowship of four, and should main- 
tain absolute silence. As the knowledge of these rules was con- 
fined to the members, how could the actor be so well informed 
about them, or why should he be interested in them .? They 
are evidently the unstudied expression of a mind having daily 
familiarity with them. 

In the same play is a dialogue between Joan of Arc and the 
Duke of Burgundy. The scene discloses Burgundy as an ally 
of the English, marching toward Paris. He is met by a herald 
of the King of France, who demands a parley which is granted. 

* Sloane MSS. No. 1622, Brit. Museum. Ashmolean MSS. No. 1754. Cf. 
The Historye of the Bermudaes. Hakluyt Society, London, 1882. 
' A Study, etc., p. 65. 

490 



THUMB MARKS 

The French King is accompanied by Joan of Arc, who makes 
a fervent appeal to Burgundy to break his alliance with the 
English and espouse the cause of France. This dialogue is es- 
pecially interesting as it was unknown in history, and was 
supposed to be a creation of the dramatist's brain until 1780, 
when a letter was discovered and printed, dated July 17, 1429, 
written by Joan to the Duke, which makes precisely such an 
appeal to him as is found in the play, but anticipates his de- 
fection from the cause of his ally. It would seem impossible 
for the actor to know of this secret history, but to Bacon, 
student and poet at the French Court, it would strongly ap- 
peal and leave its impress upon his sensitive memory. 

This play was printed twice during the actor's life, and also 
three years after his death, and in every edition appeared this 
appeal of Judge Say to Cade, who had captured and con- 
demned him to death : — • 

Kent in the Commentaries Caesar writ, 
Is term'd the civelst place in all this Isle: 
Then, noble countryman, hear me but speak, 
I sold not Maine, I lost not Normandie. 

Is it not remarkable that in 1623, two years after Bacon's 
impeachment and six years after the actor's death, this appeal 
appeared in the Folio with fifteen lines added in which the 
chief points of Bacon's case are exposed ? They are as follows : — 

Say. Heare me but speake, and beare mee wher'e you will: 
Kent, in the Commentaries Csesar writ. 
Is term'd the civel'st place of all this Isle; 
Sweet is the Country, because full of Riches, 
The People Liberall, Valiant, Active, Wealthy, 
Which makes me hope you are not void of pitty. 
I sold not Maine, I lost not Normandie, 
Yet to recover them would loose my life: 
Justice with favour have I alwayes done, 
Prayres and Teares have mov'd me, Gifts could never. 
When have I ought exacted at your hands? 
Kent to maintaine, the King, the Realme and you. 
Large gifts have I bestow'd on learned Clearkes, 

491 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Because my Booke preferr'd me to the King. 
And seeing Ignorance is the curse of God, 
Knowledge the Wing wherewith we flye to heaven. 
Unlesse you be possest with divellish spirits, 
You cannot but forbeare to murther me: 
This Tongue hath parlied unto Forraigne Kings 
For your behoofe. 

2 Henry VI, iv, 7. 

Here we have set forth the points in Bacon's case which, 

first, are a refutation of the charge of bribery, which it should 

he noted is irrelevant, as in the play no such charge is made; 

second, reference to his liberality to subordinates; third, to 

his book, which "preferr'd me to the King" ;^ and fourth, how 

his 

Tongue had parlied unto Forraigne Kings 
For your behoofe. 

These lines, too, are distinctively Baconian : — 

And seeing Ignorance is the curse of God 
Knowledge the Wing wherewith we flye to heaven. 

How can this be accounted for unless by ascribing the ad- 
ditional lines to the real author of the play when he made his 
revisal of it for the Folio ? 

Not long ago Laing and others, finding that Romano was 
only referred to as a painter, hastily rushed into print with the 
discovery that the author of "The Winter's Tale " had made 
"the egregious blunder of calling him a sculptor." Vasari, his 
contemporary, and the best of authorities, called him only a 
painter. Even Churton Collins, in the Reprint from the First 
Folio, classes this allusion to Romano among his author's 
blunders, which would have passed unquestioned had not a 
copy of the Italian original of Vasari, published in 1550, been 
discovered. In this is a Latin epitaph which was upon Ro- 
mano's tomb in the Church of St. Barnabas, and which lauded 
him for his achievements in "painting, architecture, and 

^ The Advancement of Learning, dedicated to King James. 
492 



THUMB MARKS 

sculpture. ^^ In Vasari's edition of 1568, and all subsequent 
editions, this was omitted; hence, the discovery. 

How, it will be asked, came the author of " The Winter's Tale" 
to be familiar with such a bit of obscure learning ? Professor 
Elze settles the question by saying that he must have been ac- 
quainted with this obscure book, never translated, and super- 
seded by the enlarged work of eighteen years later, or he had 
been in Mantua and had known of Romano's works. How 
could the sordid and dissolute actor, living in Stratford when 
this play was written, have been familiar enough with Romano 
to use his name in this facile manner? 

The Frincesse hearing of her Mother's Statue (which is in the keeping 
of Paulina) a Peece many yeares in doing, and now newly performed, 
by the rare ItaHan Master, Julio Romano, who (had he himselfe Eter- 
nitie, and could put Breath into his Worke) would beguile Nature of 
her Custome, so perfectly is he her Ape: He so neere to Hermoine, hath 
done Hermoi^ie, that they say one would speake to her, and stand in 
hope of answer. 

The Winter'' s Tale, v, 2. 

In this same play occurs the following : — 

{Bohemia. A desert country near the sea.) 
Enter Antigonus, a Mariner, Babe, Sheepherd and Clozvne. 
Ant. Thou art perfect then, our ship hath toucht upon 

The Desarts of Bohemia. 
Mar. I (my Lord) and feare 

We have Landed in ill time; the skies look grimly. 

Ibid., Ill, 3. 

Ben Jonson told Drummond that " Shakspere wanted arte" ; 
and that " in a play, brought in a number of men saying they 
had suffered shipwreck in Bohemia, wher y' is no sea neer by 
some 100 miles." ^ 

All the commentators have quoted this, some for the pur- 
pose of fortifying the impossible theory, already noted, that, 
although ignorant, his transcendent genius was sufficient to 
account for his authorship of the great dramas. The result is 

* C. M. Ingleby, LL.D., Centurie of Prayse, p. 129. London, 1879. 

493 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

that this apparent slip has been made famous, and the first 
always quoted by them. It seems unfortunate that in the par- 
ticular cases they have selected as exhibits, they have been so 
careless, for there are many errors in the dramas, though per- 
haps less conspicuous than this seems to be. It is strange, too, 
that they never undertook to study the obscure and tangled 
history of Bohemia, Moravia, Hungary, Austria, and the 
various petty principalities to the north of the Adriatic; 
had they done so they would have found that at one time 
it was quite proper to lay this scene in "The Winter's 
Tale" on the seashore of Bohemia, and that instead of show- 
ing that the author of the "Shakespeare" Works was 
ignorant, they have given another proof of his remarkable 
learning. 

The history of central Europe is perplexing, owing to con- 
tinual changes in the boundaries of states caused by conquests 
and losses of different rulers. It is true, however, that Ottokar 
in 1253 became King of Bohemia, whose northern shores were 
then swept by the stormy Baltic. He reigned twenty-five 
years, when he was defeated and killed on the Marchfeld by 
Rudolph of Hapsburg, King of Germany. Ottokar had ac- 
quired in 1252, Austria; in 1262, Styria; and in 1269, Carin- 
thia; and when the battle of Marchfeld was fought, in 1278, 
the great Kingdom of Bohemia extended from the Baltic on 
the north to the Adriatic Sea on the south, thus being a 
maritime country. 

Some time since the present writer, while pursuing the study 
of the history of central Europe in the fifteenth and sixteenth 
centuries, sketching at the same time for his edification a map 
of the changes taking place from time to time in the bound- 
aries of different states, discovered that for a brief period 
Bohemia and adjoining states, extending from the Baltic to 
the Adriatic, were again united under a single ruler. This 
map, which he then sketched and submitted to a friend in the 
University of Oxford for verification will show this. 

494 



THUMB MARKS 

The story which this illustrates is long and obscure, but we 
will condense it. By skilful policies and fortunate marriages, 
the House of Hapsburg at an early day managed to unite vari- 
ous principalities north of the Adriatic, and thereby established 
its rule over an immense territory. In 1491, the Emperor 
Maximilian I, by marriage with Mary of Burgundy, and the 
abdication of Count 
Sigismund, acquired all 
the Hapsburg posses- 
sions. He was then 
Archduke of Austria, 
Duke of Styria, Car- 
inthia, and Carniola, 
and Count of Tyrol, 
besides having lands in 
Swabia and Alsace. He 
died in 1519. His son, 
Philip, married the 
Queen of Aragon and 
Castile, and had two 
sons, Charles, who, in 
1 5 16, became King of 
Spain, and Ferdinand, 
who, in 1519, upon the death of his grandfather, became 
Archduke of Austria. This Ferdinand, the grandson of the 
Emperor Maximilian, by marriage in 1521 with Anna, the 
daughter of Ladislaus H, King of Bohemia and Hungary, and 
in 1526 by the death of her brother, Louis U, became King 
of these kingdoms, which again united the various countries 
bordering on the Adriatic Sea under one ruler, and it might 
be represented in a romantic tale, without offense to poetic 
license, that Bohemia again had an outlet to the sea. 

It would seem by this that the author of "The Winter's 
Tale" was better versed in the complicated history of central 
Europe than Jonson, or the Shaksperlan commentators. We 

49S 




THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

know that Bacon was. But how could, or why should, an ob- 
scure actor, writing hurriedly, as his biographers tell us, solely 
for gain, and ever after indifferent to the fate of his productions, 
know about the tangled history of the states of central Europe, 
or the perplexing genealogy of its royal families ? It may be 
objected that Greene, the pseudo author of *' Pandosto," from 
which "The Winter's Tale" was dramatized, furnished its au- 
thor with his geography. We hope to show later that Greene 
was one of Bacon's masks, but if we do not, our contention 
that Bacon was the author of "The Winter's Tale" will not 
be affected, for in both the story and the play the descrip- 
tion of Bohemia's seashore is correct. We suggest, however, 
that inasmuch as Greene knew little of history, and Bacon 
was a historian facile princeps, the objection should count 
in favor of Bacon's authorship of "Pandosto" as well 
as its dramatized version, since both state an obscure fact 
not likely to have been known by either of their pseudo 
authors. 

Perhaps too much space has been given to what some may 
deem a trifling matter, but our justification is, that since so 
much has been written about this so-called blunder it should be 
given a quietus. That Francis Bacon, whose association with 
royalty and court life rendered it incumbent upon him to 
know the intimate history of the royal families of Europe, 
should know the extent of the realms of Ferdinand I, or of his 
predecessor, Ottokar, is not at all strange, and the fact that 
in this fanciful story, which did not demand accurate geog- 
raphy any more than the romances of Anthony Hope, this bit 
of obscure but accurate knowledge should slip in as though 
unconsciously, is indeed a strong proof in favor of Bacon's 
authorship of "The Winter's Tale." It may be suggestive to 
mention, that Richard II of England, whose family history 
was familiar to Bacon, was the father-in-law of Anne, daughter 
of Charles IV of Bohemia, and that a letter in Bacon's own 
hand to the Queen of Bohemia still exists. 

496 



THUMB MARKS 

As in the case of Bohemia the critics have harped upon the 
ignorance displayed in the following passage in the "Two 
Gentlemen of Verona" : — 

Verona — a street. 

Sp. . . . Saw you my Master? 

Pro. But now he parted hence to embarque for Millain. 

I, I. 

Panth. Launce, away, away; a Boorde: thy Master is 

ship'd, and thou art to post after with oares, away asse. 

You'l loose the Tide, if you tarry any longer. 

... I meane thou'lt loose the flood. 
Laun. ... if the River 

were drie, I am able to fill it with my teares. 

II, 3. 

Here is described a tidal river forming a traffic communica- 
tion between Verona and Milan. That this was impossible 
has often been declared. The author of the play, however, 
seems to have had a more accurate knowledge of the ancient 
topography of the region than modern critics, for, in the fif- 
teenth century, such a waterway not only existed between 
Verona and Milan, but between the latter city and Ferrara, as 
appears in the "Life" of Beatrice d'Este, Duchess of Milan, 
and passengers passed between them by boats. Is it conceiv- 
able that the Stratford actor was as intimately acquainted 
with the ancient topographical conditions of this remote re- 
gion as the quotation we have made implies ? This is a ques- 
tion which will naturally suggest itself to the reader. 

In "Hamlet" are two remarkable instances of adherence to 
erroneous theories, the one philosophic, the other scientific. 
In the scene where Hamlet upbraids his mother, he says : — 

Sence sure you have 
Els could you not have motion. 

Ill, 2. Quarto of 1604. 

Reference to commentators on the text of this drama dis- 
closes the curious opinions they have held on the meaning of 

497 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

these words. In 1605 Bacon published his "Advancement of 
Learning," and makes no correction of this theory, which had 
long been held, that in the absence of sense there can be no 
motion, but in 1623, when he repubhshed the same work, he 
had abandoned it, explaining that ignorance 

drove some of the ancient philosophers to suppose that a soul was 
infused into all bodies without distinction; for they could not con- 
ceive how there could be motion at discretion without sense, or 
sense without a soul.^ 

In the First Folio of the "Shakespeare" Works published 
the same year, the lines above quoted from the earlier "Ham- 
let" were left out. By whom and why were they canceled if 
not by Bacon, who was then seeing his " Augmentis" through 
Jaggard's press .f' 

The other case is disclosed in the following lines: — 

And the moist Starre 
Upon whose influence Neptune's Empier stands 
Was sicke almost to doomsday with eclipse. 

I, I, Ibid. 

We here see that in 1604 the author of "Hamlet" held the 
popular theory that the motion of the tides was caused by the 
influence of the moon upon the sea, and continued to hold it, 
as these lines appeared in all the editions of the drama until 
the Folio was published in 1623, when they were canceled. 

It is a significant fact that Bacon's works disclose the same 
change of opinion respecting this theory. That he held the pop- 
ular theory to be true for many years, we know, for in a masque 
written in 1594, after referring to the pole star, he wrote: — 

Yet even that star gives place to Cynthia's rays 
Whose drawing virtues govern and direct 
The flots and reflots of the Ocean. 

Christmas Masque, 1594. 

Some years after this, however, he experienced a change of 
opinion, and wrote : — 

^ De Augmentis. (Spedding, vol. ix, p. 57.) 
498 



THUMB MARKS 

We dare not proceed so far as to assert that the sun and moon 
have a dominion or influence over those motions of the sea. 

Mr. Spedding, in his Preface to Bacon's treatise on the 
"Ebb and Flow of the Sea," remarks: — 

With respect to theories of the cause of the tides, it may be 
observed that a connexion of some kind or other between the 
tides and the moon has at all times been popularly recognized. 
But the conception which was formed as to the nature of this con- 
nexion long continued vague and indefinite, and in Bacon's time 
those who speculated on the subject were disposed to reject it 
altogether.^ 

When twenty years later Bacon wrote at Gray's Inn his 
work on the tides, he changed his opinion, and so we note the 
remarkable fact that the popular theory holds its place in all 
the editions of "Hamlet" up to this time, but thereafter is 
omitted. Who canceled, seven years after the actor's death, 
the lines embodying this theory, if not Bacon, who at that 
time had adopted another theory.? 

In "Hamlet" we find another case of the reversal of a 
theory. We have already given two such reversals which con- 
form to changes of opinions by Bacon. Is it possible to attrib- 
ute these to coincidence, or to admit for a moment that the 
actor was so solicitous of his scientific fame as to make them? 
This great tragedy was written, as already stated, about the 
time that the actor left Stratford, but was not printed until 
1603. In this edition are these lines: — 

Doubt that in Earth is Fire 

Doubt that the Starres do move. (See Quarto 1603.) 

In 1604, another edition much enlarged was printed and 
these lines were changed to 

Doubt that the starres are fire 
Doubt that the Sunne doth move. 

^ The Works, etc., vol. v, p. 238. 

499 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

The theory that the earth's core was a mass of fire was then 
and has ever since been held, but in 1604 Bacon wrote his 
"Cogitations de Natura Rerum,"^ and in this book advocated 
the theory that the earth was dead and cold throughout its 
entire mass, while all the other heavenly bodies were fire. 
Says Mr. Reed, commenting upon this remarkable incident: — 

Bacon adopted this new view of the earth's interior at pre- 
cisely the same time that the author of "Hamlet" did; that is to 
say, according to the record, in the brief interval between the ap- 
pearance of the first and that of the second edition of the drama. ^ 

The change in the second line of " Doubt that the stars do 
move" to "Doubt that the sun doth move," is equally im- 
pressive, as it shows beyond doubt that the author of " Hamlet" 
always adhered to the Ptolemaic system of the Universe, an 
erroneous dogma which Bacon also cherished through life, and 
which has caused him to be harshly criticized. 

Many other interesting examples similar to the foregoing 
and equally significant could be adduced adverse to the Strat- 
fordian delusion, but it may be as well to call attention to 
others of a somewhat different nature. 

It is a most important fact that in the "Sylva Sylvarum," 
published in 1627, a year after Bacon's death, by Rawley, 
which he says in the dedication to Charles I, "The late Lord 
Viscount St. Albans dedicated to Your Majesty about four 
years past, when Your Majesty was Prince," appears a chap- 
ter entitled " Experiments in Consort touching Music," ^ in 
which Bacon treats of the subject of Concord and Discord, 
showing that not long before the publishing of the Folio 
of 1623, he had been devoting himself to the study of the 
subject. 

That he was familiar with the technique of music, and espe- 

* Spedding, vol. v, p. 199. 

* Edwin Reed, A.M., Francis Bacon Our Shakspere, p. 16. Boston, 1902. 
^ Spedding, vol. iv, p. 228 et seq. 

500 



THUMB MARKS 

cially with the trltone some time before 1623, when he dedi- 
cated the " Sylvarum " to the King, is not to be questioned . It 
is therefore to note that in the play of "King Lear" appears 
the following : — 

Pat: he comes like the Catastrophe of the old Comedie; my Cue is 
villanous Melancholly, with a sighe like Tom o' Bedlam, — these 
Eclipses do portend these divisions. Fa, Sol, La, Me. ^ 

These four notes of the musical scale, doubtless seem to most 
readers a meaningless addition to the text. They form, how- 
ever, the tritone, which the Century Dictionary thus defines: — 

In music an Interval composed of three whole steps or "tones." 
The older harmonists regarded this intervale, even when only 
suggested, as peculiarly objectionable, whence the proverb, mi 
contra fa diabolus est. 

It was therefore called "The devil in Music." * 

The humming of these notes was intended, therefore, by 
Edmund as a subtle illustration of the discordant condition 
of the realm, which Gloucester had just characterized in these 
words : — 

Love cooles, friendship falls off, Brothers divide; in Cities, mutinies; 
in Countries, discord; in Pallaces, Treason; and the Bond crack'd 'twixt 
Sonne and Father.^ 

The introduction of the tritone in "Lear" is rendered 
doubly significant by the fact that in the two editions of the 
play published in quarto in 1608, it does not appear. At this 
time the actor was living at Stratford, engaged in those sordid 
pursuits which his biographers so frankly describe. It seems 
hardly reasonable to suppose that at any time he would have 
troubled himself with such an unprofitable study as that of the 
tritone. He did not own, when he made his will, a single mu- 
sical instrument, nor any book on music; nor is there a con- 
temporary hint that he had the least knowledge of the art ; but 
had he possessed such knowledge, how can we account for the 

1 Act I, Sc. 2. 2 Cent. Diet., under "Tritone" and "mi." 

^ Act I, Sc. 2. 

SOI 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

introduction of this technical musical interval in the Folio so 
long after his death, and at the exact time when Bacon dedi- 
cated the "Sylva Sylvarum" to the King? We submitted 
these remarks to Professor Latham True, and take the liberty 
to quote from his reply : — 

I think you have defined the tritone quite correctly, and have 
made the proper application to the passage you quote. The 
tritone is the interval of the augmented fourth, or three whole 
tones, as the name suggests. In the old system of solemnization 
invented (or rather probably adopted or adapted by Guido d' 
Arezzo) the letter B, which was the third sound of the " hexachor- 
don durum" was called mi : and F, the fourth sound of the "na- 
turale," was called, as now, /a. The interval between the two is 
the fatal augmented fourth, or tritone. That probably gave rise 
to the famous old saying, "Mi contra fa diabolus est in musica." 
In our present system of solemnization F remained /(2, but 5 was 
given a new name, si ; and the old quotation became, "Si contra 
fa diabolus in musica." In all strict counterpoint the use of the 
tritone is strictly forbidden. Many writers on harmony condemn 
it just as utterly; but there is a tendency at the present time to 
use it. 

It has been often observed that a youthful author can hardly 
avoid revealing to his reader the scenes and occupations which 
hitherto have influenced his life. The drama of "Henry VI" 
is acknowledged by all to be a youthful work of its author, 
and it is a significant fact that thirty of its scenes are laid in 
London, Bacon's birthplace; three in St. Albans, where he was 
reared ; twenty in the French provinces, where he resided for 
several years after leaving the University ; one in the Temple, 
and one in the House of Parliament, which were so familiar to 
him. How could the actor have laid the scenes of this play, 
not long after coming to London, amid scenes so familiar to 
Bacon's youth, and wholly foreign to himself.? 

Bacon was familiar with the heraldic devices of the noble 
families of his time at home and abroad, and we find striking 

502 



THUMB MARKS 

instances of this in the dramas. Green in his elaborate work 
on emblems^ gives many examples to show the curious erudi- 
tion of their author in this ancient and recondite lore. We 
will select from ''Pericles" the scene in which the six Knights 
come to honor the daughter of the King. 
The first is the Knight of Sparta: — 

And the device he bears upon his shield 
Is a black Ethiope reaching at the sun; 
The word, Lux tua vita mihi. (Thy light my life.) 

— a motto borne by the family of Blount, the name of which, 
says Green : — 

Being familiar to Shakespeare, the motto also might be; and by 
a very slight alteration he has ascribed it to the Knight of Sparta. 

He also calls attention to Reusner's "Emblems" (Francfort, 
1 581), which shows the device. 

Of the second Knight, whose motto is, " Piu por dulzura 
que por fuerza" (More by gentleness than by force), he re- 
marks : — 

Had Shakespeare confined himself to Latin, it might remain 
doubtful whether he knew anything of Emblem works beyond 
those of our countrymen — Barclay and Whitney — and of the 
two or three translations into English from Latin, French, and 
Italian. But the quotation of a purely Spanish motto — that 
on the second Knight's device — shows that his reading and ob- 
servation extended beyond mere English sources, and that with 
other literary men of his day he had looked into, if he had not 
studied, the widely known and very popular writings of Alcia- 
tus and Sambucus among Latinists, of Francisco Guzman and 
Hernando Soto among Spaniards, of Gabriel Faerni and Paolo 
Giovio among Italians, and of Bartholomew Aneau and Claude 
Paradin among the French.^ 

This is hardly agreeable reading to Green's fellow Stratford- 
ians, who are striving so hard to prove that the author of the 

^ Henry Green, M.A., Shakespeare and the Emblem Writers, p. 156. London, 
1870. 

^ Ibid., p. 162 et seq. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

"Shakespeare" Works possessed little learning. We show 
in the article on "Symbolism" that Bacon was instrumental 
in publishing several works on Emblemata. 

The third Knight is of Antioch. 

The motto is "Me pompce provexit apex" (The crown of 
fame has exalted me), and the device, "A wreath of chivalry." 
This is found in Paradin's work of 1560. 

The fourth Knight bears on his shield 

A burning torch that's turned upside down; 

The word, Quod me alit, me extinguit. (What feeds me extinguishes 
me.) 

Symeoni, 1561. 

The fifth Knight shows — 

An hand environed with clouds 

Holding out gold that's by the touchstone tried; 

The motto thus, Sic spectanda fides. (So should faith be shown.) 

The sixth Knight bears — 

A withered branch, that 's only green at top, 
The motto, In hac spe vivo. (In this hope I live.) 

These two last devices and mottoes are found in Paradin. 

One of Bacon's peculiar literary fads was the threefold ex- 
pression which he used through life. In this wise he expressed 
his gratitude to Prince Charles : — 

That stretched forth your arm to save me from a sentence; 

That took hold of me to keep me from being plunged in a sentence; 

That hath kept me alive in your gracious memory, since the sentence. 

The same fad often appears in the plays : — 

If you did know to whom I gave the ring, 
And would conceive for what I gave the ring; 
And how unwittingly I left the ring. 

Merchant of Venice, v, i . ' 

This mode of expression is not alone found in the works 
above quoted, but no Stratfordian would admit that the oft- 
repeated use of this unusual mode of expression by contem- 

S04 



THUMB MARKS 

poraries, one a great philosopher and the other an humble 
actor, Is a whit more significant than Its occasional use by 
writers of popular literature. We believe that unprejudiced 
readers will think otherwise. 

Browne, the author of "Shakespeare's Biographical Plays," 
remarks that "His description of Italian scenes and manners 
are more minute and accurate than If he had derived his Infor- 
mation wholly from books"; and his biographer. Knight, re- 
ferring to the "Taming of the Shrew," "It Is difficult for those 
who have explored the City of Padua to resist the persuasion 
that the poet himself had been one of the travellers who had 
come from afar to look upon its seats of learning. If not to par- 
take of Its 'ingenius studies.' There Is a pure Paduan atmos- 
phere hanging about this play." We quite agree with Browne 
and Knight that the cities of Italy were familiar to "the poet" 
who wrote the Italian plays, for he describes them as one who 
knew them Intimately. Lady Morgan says that so correct is 
the description of the furniture In old Grumio's house, that 
every article mentioned In the play has been seen by her in the 
palaces of Florence, Venice, and Genoa. Bacon was familiar 
with such interiors, and could have described them accurately. 
Is it supposable that the supposed author of the " Biograph- 
ical" plays could have done so "by pure and unaided genius " .? 

The most Insignificant points are made by Stratfordlans 
against those who differ with them. In a recent publication 
the ground was taken that Baconians did not seem to be aware 
that In claiming the "Shakespeare" Works, so full of anach- 
ronisms, geographical and other errors, they were detracting 
from the fame of Bacon for erudition; Indeed, giving their 
case away. On the contrary, they are well aware that such in- 
accuracies as they refer to were common among writers of his 
time, and that Bacon was not exempt from them. Says Rey- 
nolds, the editor of the Clarendon Press edition of Bacon's 
Essays, "For accuracy of detail he had no care whatever. 

SOS 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

That he frequently quoted from memory seems certain. We 
find accordingly that the Essays abound in misquotations of a 
more or less important kind." Knowing his habit of dictating 
to amanuenses on all occasions, we can well understand the 
reason for such inaccuracies. Again it is objected that he 
could not have been the author of the dramas, because he him- 
self expressly disclaims being a poet. Does he .? In the passage 
alluded to he was explaining his relations with Essex. It is as 
follows: "Though I profess not to be a poet, I writ a sonnet 
directly tending and alluding to draw on Her Majesty's recon- 
cilement to my Lord." He did not say that he was not a poet, 
but did not "profess" to be one. This is in exact accord with 
what he shortly after wrote to Sir John Davis, that he was "a 
concealed poet." Such arguments are hardly worthy of at- 
tention, but it is noticeable that permitting them to pass un- 
noticed has been taken for proof that they were unanswerable. 

Perhaps, however, before dismissing the subject, we should 
mention the fact that the Society for the Study of Modern 
Languages recently decided that anachronisms do not neces- 
sarily indicate ignorance in an author, and in support of this 
thesis, attention was called to a recent play by members of the 
French Academy, in which Spain and Italy were made ad- 
joining countries. We are reminded in this connection of the 
prolepsis made by the author of the "Shakespeare" Works in 
representing Hector as quoting Aristotle long before his birth. 
This, however, is no greater than that made by Virgil in repre- 
senting yEneas as a contemporary of Dido, and becomes in- 
significant when compared with the " Byron" of Moore, which 
Macaulay remarks is throughout anachronistic, since even the 
sentiments and phrases of Versailles appear in the Camp of 
Aulis. 

We claim, however, no immunity for Bacon. While we 
think that his anachronisms were not the result of ignorance, 
we must admit that he was inexcusably careless, a fault no 
doubt arising from his habit of dictating to amanuenses, in 

506 



THUMB MARKS 

some cases without subsequent examination. It is curious that 
at the same period, 1594, in several anonymous works since 
ascribed to Marlowe, Peele, Kyd, and Greene, appear certain 
coincidences of expression found in "Henry VI" and "Lu- 
crece." These are typical examples: — 

Yor. I am farre better borne then is the King: 

More like a King, more Kingly in my thoughts. 

K. Henry FI, v, i. 

Peele: This princely mind in thee 

Argues the height and honor of thy birth. 
Greene: Selim, thy mind in kingly thoughts attire. 
Marlowe: This kindness to thy King, argues thy noble mind and dis- 
position. 
O comfort-killing Night, image of Hell, 
Dim register, and notarie of shame, 
Blacke stage for tragedies, and murthers fell. 
Vast sin-concealing Chaos, nourse of blame. 

Lucrece, Quarto, 764-67. 

Darke Night, dread Night, the silence of the Night, 
Wherein the Faries maske in hellish troupes. 

The Contention, K. Henry VI, i, 4. 

The silence of the Speechless Night, 
Dire architect of murders and misdeeds. 
Kyd: Night, the coverer of accursed crimes. 

The silent deeps of dead-sad Night, where sins do mask 
unseen. 

Stratfordians now deride coincidences of expression, de- 
claring that they were common to the time ; yet owing to such 
coincidences they have assigned anonymous works to Kyd, 
Peele, and others. Consistency with them is no longer a jewel. 

Macaulay relates the episode relative to Bacon's treatment 

by the powerful favorite of James : — 

Having given these proofs of contrition he ventured to present 
himself before Buckingham. But the young upstart did not think 
that he had yet sufficiently humbled an old man who had been 
his friend and his benefactor, who was the highest civil function- 
ary in the realm, and the most eminent man of letters in the 
world. It is said that on two successive days Bacon repaired to 

507 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Buckingham's house, that on two successive days he was suffered 
to remain in an antechamber among foot-boys, seated on an old 
wooden box, with the Great Seal of England at his slde.^ 

In the drama of "Henry VIII," published in 1623, occurs 
this counterpart of Bacon's experience. The reader will de- 
cide whether this was the result of design or coincidence : — 

Cran. . . . for certaine 

This is of purpose laid by some that hate me, 
(God turne their hearts, I never sought their malice) 
To quench mine Honor; they would shame to make me 
Wait else at doore; a fellow Councellor 
'Mong Boyes, Groomes and Lackeyes, 
But their pleasures 
Must be fulfill'd, and I attend with patience. 

Enter the King and Buts, at a Windowe above. 
Buts. He shew your Grace the strangest sight, 
King. What's that Buts? 

Buts. I thinke your Highnesse saw this many a day. 
King. Body a me; where is it?^ 
Buts. There my Lord: 

The high promotion of his Grace of Canterbury, 
Who holds his State at dore 'mongst Pursevants, 
Pages, and Foot-boyes. 

V, 2. 

This scene correctly embodies the incident related by Macau- 
lay which occurred in 1621, five years after the actor's death. 

The editor of the "Cambridge Spenser," in interesting re- 
flections upon the Puritanism of Spenser, which space will not 
permit us to quote in full, remarks : — 

To what extent Spenser may have held with the Puritans is 
nevertheless a somewhat perplexed question. One could wish 
that the allegory of the three eclogues were clearer — except for a 
brief passage upon the intercession of saints, the thought of which 
is broadly Protestant, there is hardly a glance at dogma. ^ 

^ For original see Sir Anthony Weldon's Court and Character of King James. 
London, 1651; or Secret History of Reign of, etc., vol. I, p. 440. Ibid., 1811. 
2 One of King James's favorite expressions. 
^ The Complete Works, etc., p. 2 et seq. 

SO8 



THUMB MARKS 

Bacon, who was unmistakably a religious man, was tolerant 
in an intolerant age of all faiths, and it seems somewhat re- 
markable that writers have been puzzled in precisely the same 
manner with regard to his dogmatic beliefs, and those of the 
author of the "Shakespeare" Works, as the Cambridge editor 
has been with respect to those of Spenser. 

Words employed by W. S. in "Locrine," and by Spenser in 
the "Calendar" and "Faerie Queene," were obsolete at the 
time their authors used them, and it is suggestive that Bacon 
in the same manner effectively made use of obsolete words to 
garnish his discourses after the manner of Livy and Sallust, 
with whose works he was familiar. 

Stratford is never mentioned in the plays and poems attrib- 
uted to the actor. Were he their author this would seem strange, 
for here he lived from infancy to manhood. Warwickshire is 
almost ignored, though special pride was taken by the towns- 
man in his county. St. Albans, the favorite residence of Bacon, 
is often brought into the plays, and Kent, the county of the 
Bacons, still oftener. If Bacon were their author he might 
well have made the allusions to Warwickshire, for he had rela- 
tives there whom he visited. Stony Stratford is once named, 
but it is in the county of Bucks. 

In Bacon's "Advancement of Learning" he translates an 
opinion of Aristotle to the effect that "young men are no fit 
auditors of moral philosophy." The same sentiment appears 
in "Troilus and Cressida": — 

Young men whom Aristotle thought 
Unlit to hear moral philosophy. 

II, 2. 

The word "moral" has been called a mistranslation of the 
Greek word, politikes. But the actor was said to know "little 
Latin and less Greek," and this "o«/y strengthened his claim 

509 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

for the authorship of the play."" How strange, though, that 
Bacon, whose recently discovered Ubrary, we are told, shows 
him to have been an accomplished Greek scholar at fourteen, 
should also mistranslate this word. 

An examination of Bacon's work, however, shows that he 
made an unusual but, in this case, apt translation of the word, 
to meet the requirements of his thesis. But where did the 
actor get this "mistranslation," and how should he be so 
familiar with this unusual use of politikes as to use it in a 
play? This can be explained only by one of the pernicious 
theorists who are claiming that Bacon and the actor collabo- 
rated. 

The affection existing through life between Anthony and 
Francis Bacon was flawless. They were educated together, 
possessed similar literary tastes, and the elder was ever ready 
to sacrifice his wealth to forward the interests of the younger 
man. That Anthony was highly esteemed for his ability is 
shown by his correspondence, upon which Birch founded 
much of his historical work. It is said that he contributed to 
some of the literary productions of Francis, and was passion- 
ately fond of the drama, so much so that he went to reside at 
Bishopsgate to be near the theater where the "Shakespeare" 
plays were enacted. It is a most suggestive fact that An- 
thony's name so repeatedly appears in these plays: — 

/. CcBsar, I, 2. He loves no plays as thou dost Antony. 

Tempest, i, 2. Did Antonio open the gates? 

Two Gent. Verona, 11, 4. Know you Don Antonio.? 

Much Ado, II, I. You are signior Antonio? 

Met. Venice, i, 1. To you, Antonio, I owe the most. 

Ant. Cleo., 11, 7. Good Antony, your hand. 

AWs Well, III, 5. That is Antonio the Duke's eldest. 

Taming of the Shrew, i, 2. Antonio, my father is deceased. 

Lovers Labours Lost, 1,1. I am Antony Dull. 

Romeo and Juliet, v. Antony and Potpan. 

Henry V, iv, 8. Antony, Duke of Brabant, the brother. 

Richard III, i, i. Man of Worship, Antony Woodville. 

Mer. Venice, v, i. Brother Antony. 

SIC 



THUMB MARKS 

Thus it will be seen that in twelve plays there is an Antony, 
or Antonio, the equivalent of Anthony. We select these from 
the two hundred and sixty-nine allusions to the name in the 
"Shakespeare" plays, which we find in Mrs. Cowden Clark's 
Concordance. We have already spoken of the fact, that 
shortly before the appearance of the "Merchant of Venice," 
when Francis Bacon was arrested for debt by Sympson, a Jew 
of Lombard Street, Anthony came to his relief, as Antonio did 
to Bassanio's when persecuted for debt by Shylock. There is 
good reason why Francis Bacon should introduce in plays 
which he was writing the name "Anthony" his "comfort and 
consorte," but none why it should be of such absorbing inter- 
est to the actor that he should iterate, and reiterate it almost 
tediously. We should call especial attention to this in the 
author's greatest drama which affords us several clues to his 
identity. 

Lady Bacon was the governess to Prince Edward, the 
brother of Mary and Elizabeth, and Sir Anthony Cooke, her 
father was his tutor; so that during her life she was associated 
intimately with the family of Henry VHL Francis, we are in- 
formed, was endowed with a remarkable wit, which was recog- 
nized in an age when wit was practiced as a fine art. In him it 
was spontaneous, and, from the evidence of contemporaries, 
must have been phenomenal. In early youth he was under 
influences which fostered the development of this inherent 
talent. It was in the family of the King that John Heywood 
occupied an exceptional position as Court Jester. Of his re- 
lations with Queen Mary, his rare humor so lightened the 
sadness which frequently oppressed her, that it is said, "His 
pleasantries often acceptable in her privy chamber, helped to 
amuse her even on her death bed." ^ 

This man "of most excellent fancy" was of good birth, and 
made himself useful in arranging Court entertainments, con- 

* Doran, History of Court Fools, p. 132. London, 1856. Cf. Diet. National 
Biography, in loco. 

5" 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

tributing to the wit of the table, and singing a humorous song 
when called upon; in fact, he occupied a position much like 
that of the modern social secretary. That he was musical we 
know, for he says of himself, — 

Long have I bene a singinge man, 
And sondrie partes ofte have I songe. 

Being a stanch Catholic, some time after the accession of 
Elizabeth he left England and ended his days in Malines, "the 
yeare that Sir Nicholas Bacon dyed." This particular associa- 
tion of his death with that of Sir Nicholas indicates their rela- 
tion in life. It was in the family of Sir Nicholas that this man 
"of infinite wit" was certain to find welcome, and the two 
boys of the household would not be the last to hail his coming 
or to appreciate his witty sayings. 

The first Quarto of "Hamlet" entered on the Stationers* 
Register, July 26, 1602, under the title of "The Revenge of 
Hamlet," was published in 1603, and as all authorities agree, 
and internal evidence reveals, was printed surreptitiously 
from an early and incomplete manuscript of the play, as it had 
been exhibited as far back as 1590 or earlier. Evidently to set 
the matter right, this unsatisfactory publication was super- 
seded by another quarto, printed for the same publisher, "Ac- 
cording to the true and perfect Coppie." This complete and 
corrected work, the preparation of which for the press had 
probably been begun not long after the announcement of the 
former work in 1602, appeared early in 1604. It is a remark- 
able fact that among the corrections of the text is that of the 
length of time that Yorick is said to have " lain in the earth," 
and that this change of dates clearly identifies Heywood with 
the "Yoricke" of the grave-digger. 

It was quite correct to say in the play, written in 1590 or 
even somewhat earlier, "a dozen years"; but when the play 
was revised in 1602-03 it was more correct to say "23 yeares." 

We have mentioned Heywood to call attention to the fact 

512 



THUMB MARKS 

that Francis Bacon could well have ridden on Yorick's back, 
and shared the gambols of this "man of most excellent fancy," 
as Hamlet described him. We quote from the Quarto of 1604: — 

Clozu. Heer 's a scull now hath lyen you i'th earth 23 yeares. 

Ham. Whose was it? 

Clow. A whorson mad fellowes it was, whose do you think it was? 

Ham. Nay I know not. 

Clow. A pestilence on him for a madde rogue, a pourd a flagon of Renith 
on my head once; this same skull sir, was Sir Yorick's skull, the 
King's jester. 

Ham. This? 

Clow. Een that. 

Ham. Alas poore Yoricke, I knew him Horatio, a fellow of infinite jest, 
of most excellent fancie, hee hath bore me on his backe a thou- 
sand times, and now how abhorred in my imagination it is; my 
gorge rises at it. Heere hung those lippes that I have kist I 
know not howe oft, where be your gibes now? your gamboles, 
your songs, your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set 
the table on a roare, not one now to mocke your owne grinning, 
quite chopfalne. Now get you to my Ladies table, & tell her, 
let her paint an inch thicke, to this favour she must come, make 
her laugh at that. 

The Stratford actor had gone to London years after Yorick 
had died in a foreign land and passed from memory. How un- 
reasonable to think that he wrote this scene, and cared enough, 
even if he remembered, to change in a later edition of a play 
the number of years that Yorick had been buried, in order to 
fix more accurately the date of his death. It is unthinkable ! 
The boy, however, who had shared in the gambols and songs 
of this merry friend of his childhood, had **kist" him, "I 
know not how oft," and been borne on his "back a thousand 
times," would be sure to remember that the date of his death 
was the same as that of his beloved father — for so he always 
called him — and do so spontaneously. We must distinguish 
Heywood, the Court Jester of Henry VKI, from Will Somers, 
his Court Fool. One was a witty gentleman whom it would be 
proper for an inferior to address as "Sir"; the other a profes- 
sional clown. 

513 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

We have mentioned Bacon's library, containing, we are told, 
many of the works upon which the plays were founded, with 
his notes, "Writ in the glassie margents of such bookes." One 
of these is Buchanan's "Historia Scotica" (1588), which con- 
tains the story of Macbeth. On one of the pages he has written 
"Macbethi, Macbetho," and "Macbethus Tyrannus," and 
"Bancho rigiae caedis." Many of the words, which one en- 
gaged in writing upon the subject would have been likely to 
use, suggestively or otherwise, are carefully underlined, show- 
ing that he was especially interested In the subject. Writers 
have supposed that the author of "Macbeth" was confined to 
Holinshed's "Chronicle," but in Bacon's library, Mr. Smedley 
informs us, is a copy of "Baethius" (1575), also annotated by 
him, showing that he also was familiar with the original story 
of Macbeth. In this book Bacon has written the genealogy of 
the Scottish Kings descended from Banquo to, and including 
James V, comprising seven kings; but turning to the play, 
which appeared first in the Folio of 1623, Macbeth is shown 
these descendants of Banquo by the weird sisters. Each ap- 
pears until the last in Bacon's genealogy is exhausted: — 

A seventh? I '11 see no more; — 
And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glass, 
Which shows me many more; and some I see 
That two-fold balls and treble scepters carry. 
Horrible sight! Now, I see, 't is true; 
For the blood-bolter'd Banquo smiles upon me, 
And points at them for his. — What! is this so? 

IV, I. 

The eighth king is James I, who wielded "treble scepters," 
claiming to be monarch of Great Britain, France, and Ireland. 
The author of "Macbeth" was familiar with Scotland, and In 
the witch scenes shows that he derived his local color from per- 
sonal observation, and the records of the witch trials at Aberdeen. 

It Is interesting to note, in "As You Like It," how Jacques, 
a courtier, chafing at the restrictions upon the liberty of speech, 

514 



THUMB MARKS 

petulantly exclaimed that it were better to be a fool, as he 
could then say what he liked : — 

Jaq. O, that I were a fool! 

I am ambitious for a motley coat. 
Duke S. Thou shalt have one. 

Jaq. It is my only suit; 

Provided that you weed your better judgments 
Of all opinion that grows rank in them, 
That I am wise. I must have liberty 
Withal, as large a charter as the wind, 
To blow on whom I please: for so fools have: 
And they that are most galled with my folly. 
They most must laugh. 

How suggestive this is of Bacon. 

He had been forced, in order to reach the apprehension of 
the common people, to assume "the dispised weed" of an 
actor, then regarded with contempt. The plays are crowded 
with such suggestive incidents as this. Note also how he later 
adds: "I do now remember a saying 'the Fool doth think he is 
wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.' " The same 
year that "As You Like It" was printed. Bacon published 
in Latin his "De Augmentis," in which appears this very 
sentiment, translated thus : " If you be wise you are a Fool, if 
you be a Fool you are wise." 

"Venus and Adonis" was licensed for printing by Bacon's 
old teacher and friend, Whitgift, then Archbishop of Canter- 
bury. Is it at all probable that such a poem, especially if 
known as the work of an actor, would have secured a reading, 
much less a sanction to print, from this stern censor.? With 
Bacon, his star pupil, the case would be altogether different, 
and a point might be stretched in his favor. 

In "Love's Labours Lost," the scene of which is laid in 
Navarre at the Court of which Bacon passed some of the hap- 
piest years of his life, appear the characters Biron, Boyet, and 
Dumayne. These men were well known to him and Anthony 

SIS 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Bacon, and on the latter's passports, preserved in the British 
Museum, the names of each appear.^ 

We have called attention to the scene in the drama of 
"Henry VHI," in which the fall of Lord Chancellor Wolsey in 
1529 is depicted, and how closely it parallels that of Bacon in 
1621. The most remarkable fact is, that contrary to history, 
four persons are represented as being sent to Wolsey to demand 
from him the Great Seal, while there were but two. These four 
persons were the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, the Lord 
Chamberlain and Earl of Surrey, the persons who were really 
sent to Bacon to demand the Seal from him.^ This shows that 
the author of this scene drew his description from Bacon's case 
and not from Wolsey's. It can hardly be claimed that the 
actor was its author, as the event described in it occurred five 
years after his death. 

Mr. Smedley is our authority for the following. 
Among the books in Bacon's library is a copy of Alciati's 
"Emblems" annotated by Bacon, and the remarkable fact 
disclosed by the discovery of this book is, that not only has 
Ben Jonson "incorporated in his Discoveries the translation 
of a portion of one of the Emblems," but he ^'has also incor- 
porated a portion of the annotations from this very book." ^ 

Any one acquainted with ancient manuscripts, especially 
government correspondence, is aware that numbers are often 
used in them, being substituted for names. This, for instance, 
is an example : A writer, who signs himself 67, writes this to 82 : 
"I am satisfied that if 60 had given a decisive order to 19 the 
result would have been different." To mislead one who might 
possess himself of correspondence, two, or even more, numbers, 

' Add. MSS. No. 4125. 

^ Lodge, Sketch of Wolsey in Portraits of Illustrious Personages, etc, vol. J, p. 9. 

^ Smedley, The Mystery of, etc., p. 160. 

516 



THUMB MARKS 

were used on different occasions. Bacon, as we know, had 
two numbers, 33 and 53, which he often employed. Both 
are his numerical names, using the ancient alphabet as nu- 
merals, a for 1, b for 2, and so on. The numbers in Bacon 
aggregate 33. 

As 33 might by over-frequent use attract too much atten- 
tion, he varied it by using 53, the numerical value of the Latin 



fn dies meiiora. 




TH E greedie Sowe Co longe as fhce dothe findc* , 
Some fcatteiinges leftc , of harneft vndcr foo:e 
She fonv'ard goes and neuer loolces behinde. 
While anie fweete rcmayneih for to roote, 

Euen foe wee fhoulde, to goodnes euerie dale 
Still further pafle , and not to turne nor ftaie. 



55 



form "F. Bacono." That he did this is revealed in Whitney's 
"Emblems," page 53, published in 1586, when he was making 
emblem literature, one of "the little works of my recreation." 
The position of the emblem on page 53 would identify it be- 
yond question with Bacon if the emblem itself did not. A 
glance at it, however, shows us the letter F in the broken arch 
reversed, as in the Montaigne title-page, and beneath it the 
double arch, which, turned half around to the right, discloses 
B. In the middle is the dark and light A so often used in his 

S17 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

head-pieces, and in the foreground surmounted by the word 
ulterius is a "Greedie Sow" by which stands a swineherd 
pointing to pillars of Hercules, bearing a scroll upon which is 
inscribed plus oltre, and over them the words In dies meliora ; 
in other words, the swineherd standing by the embodiment of 
stupid greed points to the hopeful words, " In better days more 
beyond." 

That the number 53 plays an important role in the First 
Folio is evident. It is noticeable that it is divided into three 
parts, and each part separately numbered; making three 
pages numbered 53. In these we shall find this curious fact: 
in the first, in the " Merry Wives of Windsor," is "hang, hog," 
and the reply, *' hang-hog, is latten for Bacon." In the second 
division, the page of which is falsely numbered 53, as if to call 
especial attention to it, appears in " King Henry IV," " I have 
a Gammon of Bacon." 

Florio, who was one of Bacon's trusted servants, and was 
pensioned for making his "works known abroad," placed on 
P^ge 53 of his "Second Frutes," the words, "Set that gammon 
of bakon upon the board." 

In the 1664 edition of the Folio, the publication of which 
Bacon's friend, Rawley, is believed to have promoted, we shall 
hardly expect to find this revealing number, but an examina- 
tion shows that two pages are numbered 53 placed opposite 
each other, and on both are found "S Albans," the name he 
often employed as a signature. There are many similar in- 
stances which clearly show design; their number and char- 
acter making them beyond the bounds of coincidence. The 
curious exploitation of the Bacon crest was no doubt sug- 
gested by the somewhat threadbare but witty anecdote of 
Sir Nicholas Bacon, who, when a criminal by the name of 
Hogg appealed to him for a light sentence on the ground 
of relationship, replied, "You and I cannot be kindred ex- 
cept you be hanged; for Hog is not Bacon until it be well 
hanged." 

S18 



THUMB MARKS 

Says Max Miiller: — 

A well educated person in England who has been at a public 
school and at the university, seldom uses more than about 3000 
or 4000 words. Shakespeare, who probably displayed a greater 
variety of expression than any writer in any language, produced 
all his plays with about 15,000 words. ^ 

A recent writer on this subject says that the number is 
much larger than this, and that Murray's Dictionary shows 
that seven thousand are new words coined by the author of 
the plays. Between seven or eight thousand words only are 
said to have been used by Dickens and Thackeray. Is it sup- 
posable that the actor could have used double as many as 
either of these authors ? 

This verbal opulence is thus noticed by Furnivall in his 
notes in the quarto of "Lucrece": — 

In turning over the pages of Schmidt's Lexicon, I have been 
fairly surprised at the large proportion of his words and senses of 
words which Shakspere used only once. 

We know that Bacon wrote a sonnet which he delivered to 
Elizabeth as a plea for forgiveness of Essex. The brilliant 
critic, Begley, has pointed out in Portia's address in the 
"Merchant of Venice" what he regards as this sonnet: — 

The quality of mercy is not strain'd, 

It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven 

Upon the place beneath; it is twice bless'd; 

It blesseth him that gives and him that takes. 

'Tis mightiest in the mightiest, it becomes 

The throned monarch better than the crown; 

His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, 

The attribute to awe and majesty, 

Wherein doth sit the dread and power of kings. 

It Is our attribute to God himself, 

And earthly power doth then show likest God's 

When mercy seasons justice. 



IV, I. 



* Science of Language, vol. i, p. 378. 1899. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

We have spoken of the fact that Bacon was married habited 
in purple. Curiously enough, when he rode in procession to be 
inducted into the office of Lord Chancellor, he was robed in 
the same royal color, which excited criticism. The state which 
he assumed annoyed the vain monarch, who regarded this 
display of the purple as a petty exhibition of vanity, but it 
may seem to some — and this seems to have escaped observa- 
tion — that he availed himself of these opportunities to be- 
queath to the future suggestive evidence of his right to wear it. 
If so, could the irony of fortune be more forcibly, perhaps we 
might say pathetically, displayed .? 

Bacon wrote Matthew, in 1608, alluding to the "Fe- 
licity of Elizabeth" which he had sent him: "At that time 
methought, you were more willing to hear Julius Ccesar than 
Elizabeth commended"; and Matthew wrote in a letter to 
Bacon respecting some work he had received from him, " I will 
not return you weight for weight but Measure for Measure." 
This play was first produced in 1603 at Wilton before the King 
and Court during the trial of Sir Walter Ralegh and the 
speech of Isabella is thought to have been introduced in behalf 
of the unfortunate Ralegh. 

Had these allusions to "Julius Caesar" and "Measure for 
Measure" been found in correspondence between the actor 
and a literary friend, would it not have been blown world-wide 
as proof unquestionable that the actor was the author of these 
plays .? 



XVI 

CIPHERS 

The use of the cipher in court and camp, to which originally 
it had been confined, appears to have attained its highest effi- 
ciency in the seventeenth century, when, escaping the limits of 
authority, it found more popular fields for expansion. Could 
we but read, beneath the commonplace phrasing of many 
documents which we study in public archives and historical 
collections, the secrets which they enshrine, history would 
have a new meaning for us. Formerly people who exercised 
power maintained decipherers, whose business it was to trans- 
late the secret messages which the correspondence of their 
employers contained. We know that Walsingham, the Queen's 
Minister in Paris, once ventured to leave his post, and journey 
hot foot to London, to communicate personally with Elizabeth, 
as he was unwilling that her decipherers should know what 
he desired to say to her. Spedding says that Francis and An- 
thony Bacon employed a number of writers, "receiving letters 
which were mostly in cipher," and that these passed through 
the hands of Francis "to the Earl of Essex deciphered." 

In one of Anthony's letters directed to Francis at Court, 
September ii, 1593, he says that his servant Edward Yates 
having lost his letters, it was impossible for him to recover his 
cipher that night. ^ Spedding's allusion to writers employed by 
the Bacons in their Scriptorium, begun at Gray's Inn, and later 
removed toTwickenham, we have mentioned before as much like 
the typewriting office of to-day. It was convenient for their offi- 
cial and literary work, and served also to increase their income. 

Bacon speaks of six ciphers, in a manner which implies that 

1 Thomas Birch, D.D., Memoirs of the Reign of Queen Elizabeth, vol. i, p. 121. 
London, 1754. 

S2I 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

he made use of them, of which the biliteral seems to have 
been the principal one, and for several years students of 
ciphers have been attempting to discover and apply them to 
his works, especially, the "Shakespeare" Works. The first 
was Ignatius Donnelly, who endeavored to elucidate one of 
them. His work is a marvel of patient study, and has at- 
tracted wide attention. That he was perfectly honest in his- 
application of his theory, and fully believed in it, no one can 
reasonably doubt. Unfortunately, he died without leaving 
sufficient data to enable any one, thus far, to continue his 
work, and we now hear little about it except abuse. 

We have given elsewhere the inscription on the stone which 
covered the actor's grave, as it was originally, viz. : — 

Good Frend for Jesus SAKE forbeare 
To diGG T-E Dust Enclo-Ased HE.Re. 
Blese be T-E Man y spares T.Es Stones 
And curst be He y moves my Bones. 

The remarkable, and, we venture to say, the unique man- 
ner in which this inscription is written is inexplicable by any 
known rules. The word "SAKE" in capitals, when if any 
word on the first line should have been so written it was the 
word "Jesus"; the capital GG in "diGG"; the dash and capi- 
tal^ in " Enclo-Ased " ; the period in the middle and at the end 
of "HE.Re." have discouraged attempts at explanation. But 
one man, Ignatius Donnelly, who not only possessed a never- 
flagging spirit of research, but a mathematical mind of unusual 
clearness, attempted it, and this is his interpretation : " Francis 
Bacon wrote the Greene, Marlowe, and Shakespeare Plays." 
He did this by the biliteral cipher found in Bacon's "De Aug- 
mentis," by reading it through and reversing the process where 
the peculiarities we have named occur. Space will not permit 
a full explanation of the method, and we refer the reader to 
Donnelly's book, from which the above epitaph is taken. ^ 

^ Ignatius Donnelly, The Cipher in the Plays and on the Tombstone. Minne- 
apolis, 1899. Cf. The Great Cryptogram. Chicago, 1888. C. A. Montgomery, 
Shakespear's Anagrams. New York, 1910. 

522 



CIPHERS 

THE WORD-CIPHER 

Dr. Orville W. Owen claims to have discovered Bacon's 
word-cipher, and by it has "translated" from his philosophical 
works, and others bearing the name of Shakspere, Spenser, 
Green, Marlowe, Peele, and Burton, several volumes of prose 
and poetry hitherto unheard of; indeed, they greet us like 
strange visitants from those far-off days, when Elizabeth and 
James thought themselves essential to the existence of our 
forefathers. Translated, however, is hardly the proper word; 
constructed would be better, for they are composed of de- 
tached lines taken from a large number of works according 
to certain guide- and key-words, which reveal where such 
excerpts should begin and end. The works which Dr. 
Owen introduces to us are remarkable, not only for intrin- 
sic merit, but for their bearing upon history. In them not 
only Bacon's early life is disclosed, but secrets of state as 
well. 

We give a single brief example of the method of the word- 
cipher. To apply it extracts are taken from various works, and 
brought together to form a continuous chain of thought ; the 
decipherer being guided by certain guide- and key-words, 
which we shall explain more fully hereafter: — 

The Prelude to a Storm 

The day is clear the welkin bright and gay 

The lark is merry and records her note {Peele) 

The thrush replies the mavis descant plays • 

The ousel shrills the ruddock warbles soft 

So goodly all agree with sweet content 

To this gladsome day of merriment. {Faerie Queene) 

Fair blows the gale {Marlowe) 

From the South furrowed Neptune's seas 

Northeast as far as the frozen Rhine {Greene) 

The bright sun thereon his beams doth beat 

As if he nought but peace and pleasure meant {Faerie Queene) 

A solid mass of gold {Anatomy of Melancholy) 

As a mirror glass the surface of the water {Bacon) 

Reflected in my sight as doth a crystal mirror in the sun {Peele) 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

This method of joining lines so as to make sense is not 
unknown, but has never been attempted on a large scale, or 
by following hidden guides. What makes this, however, 
unique in the history of literature is the revelation it makes, 
and the ingenious method which it displays. 

The first volume of Dr. Owen's work begins with this 
remarkable letter: — 

Sir Francis Bacon's Letter to the decipherer 

London, 1623. 
My dear Sir: — 

Thus leaning on my elbow I begin the letter scattered wider 
than the sky and earth: — 

And yet the spacious breath of this division, 

As it spreads round in the widest circle, 

Admits the mingling of the four great guides we use, 

So that we have no need of any minute rule 

To make the opening of our device 

Appear as plainly to you as the sun. . . . 

And for fear that you would go astray from our design 

Before you had your powers well put on, 

We have marked out a plan in this epistle 

To communicate to you how our great cipher cues combine. 

This letter which is really a dialogue between the author 
and his future decipherer, covers forty-three pages, and in it 
we are told the works in which a cipher is used. 

The writer says: — 

We will enumerate them by their whole title, 
From the beginning to the end; William Shakespeare, 
Robert Green, George Peele and Christopher Marlow's 
Stage Plays; The Fairy Queene, Shepherd's Calendar, 
And all the works of Edmund Spenser; 

The Anatomy of Melancholy of Robert Burton, — and all the 
other works of our own. 

Certainly this sets forth a formidable task for any one to 

attempt. Dr. Owen calling attention to some of the difficulties 

of his undertaking, remarks : — 

Bacon's Philosophical Works were written In Latin, and we 
have the translations only to study; thus a second party's render- 



. CIPHERS 

Ing of the original thoughts, which from the nature of the case 
would not be exact. Then from the Plays and other works, which 
have come down to us in the old English of 1623, and from these 
translations of the Latin text has to be extracted the connected 
Story through the means of the Cipher Keys. The student, on 
reflection, will admit it would be impossible to so fit and join 
the words and sentences, as to make all smoothly read in the 
exact metre, rhythm and measure of the highest literary pro- 
ductions of the nineteenth century. 

Mr. George P. Goodale makes the following comments upon 
Dr. Owen's work : — 

The existence of a cipher by use of which these stories are re- 
vealed is an indisputable fact. The stories are not Dr. Owen's 
inventions. He did not compose them, for the reason that neither 
he nor any man that lives is gifted with the surpassing genius to 
do it. Nobody has the right to pass judgment on the discovery 
who has not first read the book. 

And he makes an extract from Bacon ending thus : — 

It is not probable that a man that is slavishly bent upon blind, 
stupid and absurd objections, will bestow time and work enough 
upon this to make trial of the chain. Such a tnan is not entitled 
to judge and decide upon these questions. 

Besides the account of Bacon's early life and various secret 
matters of history, Dr. Owen gives us several dramas, namely: 
"The Tragedy of Mary Queen of Scots"; "The Spanish 
Armada" ; the story of Sir Francis Bacon's life, in blank verse, 
and the tragedy of Essex. Of these the Spanish Armada is 
the most to be admired, though it contains lines open to 
criticism, no more so, however, than some in the "Shake- 
speare" Plays. Perhaps we should quote here Owen's own 
words : — 

The first book of the deciphered writings of Sir Francis Bacon 
has had an unusual experience. It was published and sent forth 
without preface or word of explanation, with the desire that the 
public should form its own judgment upon the matter contained 
in it. 

525 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Dissatisfaction has been felt by readers that some parts of 
the deciphered material are not equal in literary power, poetic 
thought, nor artistic construction to the known efforts of Shake- 
speare or Bacon. This is doubtless true, especially in those parts 
of the story in which the necessities for concealment were so 
great as to make the difficulties of the cipher serious, and artistic 
reconstruction impossible. 

This, he tells us, Bacon himself realized, quoting in evidence 
from cipher in the "Novum Organum," and "As You Like 
It." ' 

And for the sake of 

Our own safety, we executed the work in short 

And scattered sentences, linked together in rude lines, 

And any reader of moderate sagacity 

And intelligence should see our manner of writing 

This history (as it actually and really is) 

Is such that it could not be compounded and divided. 

Composed, decomposed, and composed again in manifold ways. 

And made to mingle and unite by fits and starts, 

And be in verse. It will be found the feet are 

Weak and lame, even in the blank verse. 

We hold no brief for Dr. Owen, but deem it proper, in a 
comprehensive work of this character, to give a fair explana- 
tion of his method. The results he has achieved are startling, 
and the reader will be repaid by examining the several books 
which he has published. While he may have made a serious 
mistake in his Quixotic attempts to discover relics of Bacon 
by excavations on the banks of the Wye, a mistake which has 
evoked a tempest of ridicule, it is but just to say that he has 
devoted many years of his life to the most exacting labor under 
discouraging conditions, in order to give the world what he 
conceives to be an important discoveiy, which, if his method 
is sound, it assuredly is. The writer has been unable to give 
Dr. Owen's work the exacting study which it demands, and 
is therefore incompetent to pass judgment upon it worthy of 

' Orville W. Owen, M.D., Sir Francis Bacon'' s Cipher Story, vol. i, p. I. 
Detroit, 1894. 

526 



CIPHERS 

critical attention, but some unbiased mind should give it care- 
ful study, and bestow upon the reading public the benefit of 
his labor. No more useful work could be performed by a 
writer than an authoritative exposition of the validity or 
invalidity of Dr. Owen's work. 

METHOD OF APPLYING THE WORD-CIPHER IN THE 
PROLOGUE TO ANNE BOLEYN 

The "Argument" shows that the scene opens at the palace, 
when the King first comes under the spell of Anne's beauty, 
but the keys preceding Henry VHI make it clear that there is 
something given, before the opening scene of the play — this 
would necessarily be a Prologue. 

In searching for the keys, King Henry VII, Katherine, 
Prince Arthur, Spaine, etc., one sees that the story of Kather- 
ine's marriage was the introduction to the tragedy of Anne 
Boleyn — the key to the situation, we may say. 

The original form of the Prologue is indicated by the ease 
with which the passages, by a simple change of tense, are 
made to fall into the verse of the opening lines. 

"Truth" points to Burton, that is the "Anatomy of Melan- 
choly," where on page 488, line 47, of the 3d edition, — or 
part 3, section 2, mem. 3, line 1252, — is the name and title, 
Ferdinand, King of Spaine. The name and place are all that 
are required, because all that follows merely suggests that the 
Moores — one in "Othello," the other in "Titus Andronicus,'* 
will lead to some part of the Prologue. The notes should show 
this. 

To recapitulate, and illustrate further: — 

The Key — KING HENRY THE EIGHTH {Title, p. 205) 

The joining words — PRESENT, & THOSE THAT COME TO SEE A 

SHOW = SPECTATORS 
The Guide — TRUTH = BURTON 
The Key — SPAINE {A of M., p. 488) 
The 1st joining words — TRESENT & SPECTATORS 
The2d joining words — END, FERDINANDO, & DANGER 

527 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

The Guide — TIME = BACON 

The Key — SPAINE {Henry VII, p. 196) 

The 1st joining wor^j — END, FERDINANDO, & DANGERS 

The 2d joining words — SUCCESSION, & BLOUD 

The Guide — ENVY = SHAKESPEARE 

The Keys — HENRY THE SEVENTH, & HENRY THE EIGHTH 

{Henry Fill, p. 212) 
The 1st joining words — END, BLOUD, & SUCCEEDING 
The 2d joining words — EDWARD, & STATE 
The Guide — TIME = BACON 
The iT^yj — HENRY THE EIGHTH, KATHERINE, & PRINCE 

ARTHUR {Henry VII, p. 196) 
The 1st joining words — EDWARD, & STATE 
The 2d joining words — PART 
The Guide — ENVY = SHAKESPEARE 
The Key — RAGE {equivalent of fury) — {Othello, p. 320) 
The 1st joining word — PART 
The 2d joining words, FORGET, & FOLLOWING 
The Guide — TIME = BACON 

The Key — PRINCE OF WALES {Henry VII, p. 205) 
The 1st joining words — FOLLOWING, & FORGOTTEN 
The 2d joining words — YEARES — sent further on in BACON ^y TIME, 

and to SHAKESPEARE by STARRES 
1st — The Guide — TIME = BACON 
The Keys — KATHERINE, & PRINCE OF WALES {Henry VII, p. 

207) 
The 1st joining words — PART, FOLLOWING, & YEARES 
The 2d joining words — PROVIDENCE =FATE 
■2d — The Guide — STARRES = SHAKESPEARE 
The Z^y — MINION one meaning of which is AGENT = NUNCIO 

{Richard III, p. 196) 
The 1st joining word — FATE 
The 2d joining worJj — HIGHES (=HIES), MURTHER, & VIL- 

LAINE 
The Keys — KING & GOVERNORS {Henry VI, p. 137) 
The 1st joining words — CREPT, MURTHER, & VILLAINE 
The 2d joining words — 0\5R KING, & REVENGING 
The Key — FACTOR =AGENT = NUNCIO {Richard III, p. 196) 
The 1st joining words — HARRIE {name of our king) & REVENGE 
The 2d joining words — MOTHER, WIFE, GOD 
The Key — KING HENRY THE EIGHTH {Henry VIII, p. 231) 
The 1st joining word — GOD 
The 2d joining word — SPEAK 
The Key — ROME {Titus Andronicus, p. 51) 
The 1st joining word — SPEAK 
The 2d joining words — FATALL & MAN 

528 



CIPHERS 

The Keys — TOWER, & FRANCE (/ Henry FI, p. lOo) 

The 1st joining words — ?>?Y.AK, FATALL, & MEN 

The 2d joining words — PLAY 

The Key — FRANCE {Henry FI, p. loi) 

The 1st joining words — MEN, & PLAYED 

The 2d joining words — PRAISE 

The Keys — KING, & FRANCE {Love's Labours Lost, p. 130) 

The joining word — PRAISE 

Note : — The ist joining words point to the passage preceding: the 
2d joining words, to the one following. 

It is evident that the task of selecting from a large number of 
books, some perhaps in Latin, lines that will make a connected 
narrative when joined together, would be formidable. It 
would require not only critical discrimination of a high char- 
acter, but unflagging persistence worthy of a great cause; 
indeed, without a method, the task would seem to be a hopeless 
one. This method is disclosed in the letter to the decipherer. 
It consists of two large cylinders upon which is rolled a thou- 
sand feet of cloth, about twenty-six inches wide, and upon 
which is pasted the leaves of the books to be deciphered. 
Upon the cylinder farthest from the decipherer the cloth is 
wound, the end being secured to the cylinder directly in front 
of him, which being turned toward him brings the leaves 
of the books directly before his eyes. The guide-words are 
first found and a line drawn under them. Associated with 
these are key-words, and sentences containing them are en- 
closed. These sentences are then read to typists who print 
them upon sheets of paper and head them with the key-words 
for convenience in selecting. As the guide- and key-words are 
numerous, the task is no easy one. 

Dr. Owen worked upwards of seven years to learn how to 
unravel the mysteries of his discovery. By instructing assist- 
ants he was finally able to leave the work of deciphering to 
them. It would be strange if errors in Dr. Owen's work were 
not made, and it is likely to require a more critical study than 
has thus far been bestowed upon it to clear it of errors. 

529 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

THE BILITERAL CIPHER 

While at the French Court, Francis Bacon Invented the 
cipher now known as the biliteral which he describes in his 
"De Augmentis." Though we would gladly avoid duplicating 
what has already been quoted by Mrs. Gallup and several 
others, it seems necessary to do so. This is Bacon's explana- 
tion of this, the most interesting of all ciphers: — 

As for Writing, It Is performed either by the common alphabet 
— or by a secret and private one, agreed upon by particular per- 
sons, which they call ciphers — Of these there are many kinds : 
simple ciphers; ciphers mixed with non-significant characters; 
ciphers containing two different letters In one character; wheel 
ciphers; key ciphers; word ciphers, and the like. 

It is requisite, he continues, that they be easy and not labori- 
ous to write; that they be safe and Impossible to be deciphered; 
and such as not to raise suspicion. For if letters fall into the hands 
of those who have power either over the writers, or over those to 
whom they are addressed, although the cipher itself may be safe 
and impossible to decipher, yet the matter comes under examina- 
tion and question; unless the cipher be such as either to raise no 
suspicion or to elude inquiry. Now for this elusion of Inquiry, 
there is a new and useful contrivance for it, which, as I have it 
by me, why should I set it down among the desiderata, Instead 
of propounding the thing itself.^ It is this: let a man have two 
alphabets, one of true letters, the other of non-slgnlficants; and 
let him enfold in them two letters at once; one carrying the secret, 
the other such a letter as the writer would have been likely to 
send, and yet without anything dangerous. Then If anyone be 
strictly examined as to the cipher, let him offer the alphabet of 
true letters for non-significants. Thus the examiner will fall upon 
the exterior letter; which finding probable, he will not suspect 
anything of another letter within. But for avoiding suspicion 
altogether, I will add another contrivance, which I devised my- 
self when I was at Paris In my early youth, and which I still think 
worthy of preservation. For It has the perfection of a cipher, 
which is to make anything signify anything; subject however to 
this condition, that the Infolding writing shall contain at least 
five times as many letters as the writing infolded; no other con- 
dition or restriction whatever Is required. The way to do it is 

530 



CIPHERS 

this : First let all the letters of the alphabet be resolved into trans- 
positions of two letters only. For the transposition of two letters 
through five places will yield thirty-two differences; much more 
twenty-four which is the number of letters in our alphabet. 
Here is an example of such an alphabet: — 

JiaaoG, . aaa<xb, aadfaMaabb.aopaa. aaboP' 

ff ^, ^ ^ / ^ 

acwfa.aMp. a^aaa.<iba(XP.aPaPCi.apabf» 

^£ O ^ Qj ^ S 

EXAMPLE OF AN ALPHABET IN TWO LETTERS 

Nor is it a slight thing which is thus by the way affected. 
For hence we see how thoughts may be communicated at any 
distance of place by means of any objects perceptible either to 
the eye or ear, provided only that those objects are capable 
of two differences; as by bells, trumpets, torches, gunshots, 
and the like. But to proceed to our business: when you prepare 
to write, you must reduce the interior epistle to this biliteral 
alphabet. 

He then gives us the alphabet containing letters from two 
different fonts,i and taking the following message, "Do not 
go till I come," encloses in it the instruction "Fly." 

To do this he divides the message into groups of five letters 
thus: 

Do not/ go til/1 I com/e. 

aa bab. ab aba. b abba. 
' See p. 532. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

l^a.aM(.^.Q. (f.ccM/I 
a. P'GrJ. a* P* a. A a. A a-p a. A^./* 

1E.s.c.t.^.'iF0.g4^.g£mf. 

a- i'^J^(^' p, a^P'd.p* a*p^ a^ p.a.p. 

S.f.i.i.^M£.<£fS-i.X.mM. 

X^'n.tt.a o.,.^.^.§j, Q:^hX 

^' /. a.p. <t. p. ci.P^ (^•b.ah^aS.aS. 

In the exhibit above shown, it will be noticed that the third 
and fifth h indicates F, the second and fourth, /, and the first, 
third, and fourth, y. All, then, that is necessary is to make the 
third and fifth letter in the first group slightly different to 
indicate that it is F; the second and fourth in the next group 
to indicate that it is /, and the first, third, and fourth in the 
third to indicate that it is y. 

This cipher can be written and put in type, with rapidity 

532 



CIPHERS 

and ease when the letters for the second font are marked. The 
"De Augmentis," from which Bacon's instructions are taken, 
is in Latin, hence the word "Fly" is "Fuge," which neces- 
sitates a change. This is as it appears in the original. 

a ab ab.b da b b da b b d aa b ac. 

Bacon then continues : — 

I add another large example of the same cipher, — of the 
writing of anything by anything. 

The interior epistle; for which I have selected the Spartan 
despatch, formerly sent in the Scytale: — 

All is lost. Mindarus is killed. The soldiers want food. We can 
neither get hence, nor stay longer here. 

The exterior epistle, taken from Cicero's first letter and con- 
taining the Spartan despatch within it: — 

In all duty or rather piety towards you I satisfy every body ex- 
cept myself. Myself I never satisfy. For so great are the serv- 
ices which you have rendered me, that seeing you did not rest in 
your endeavours on my behalf till the thing was done, I feel as if life 
had lost all its sweetness, because I cannot do as much in this cause 
of yours. The occasions are these: Ammonius the King^s ambassa- 
dor openly besieges us with money; the business is carried on through 
the same creditors who were employed in it whe?i you were here, etc.^ 

The doctrine of Ciphers carries along with it another doctrine, 
which is its relative. This is the doctrine of deciphering, or of 
detecting ciphers, though one be quite Ignorant of the alphabet 
used or the private understanding between the parties; a thing 
requiring both labour and ingenuity, and dedicated, as the other 
likewise is, to the secret of princes. By skilful precaution indeed 
it may be made useless; though as things are It Is of very great 
use. For If good and safe ciphers were Introduced, there are very 
many of them which altogether elude and exclude the deci- 
pherer, and yet are sufficiently convenient and ready to read and 
write. But such is the rawness and unskllfulness of secretaries 
and clerks in the court of kings, that the greatest matters are 
commonly trusted to weak and futile ciphers. - 

^ From translation of Gilbert Watts. 

2 James Spedding, M.A., The Works of Francis Bacon, vol. ix, pp. 1 15-20. 
Boston, 1864. 

533 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

We quote at length because it Is so common for people when 
the cipher is mentioned to exclaim, "Lee, Collins, and the best 
Shaksperian scholars long ago exploded that fraud." It there- 
fore seems necessary to set such objectors right by showing 
that Bacon was an expert in ciphers. The only question, then, 
to consider is, Did he employ them in the works which he 
wrote, whether anonymously or under pseudonyms, for rea- 
sons of safety or policy? 

The biliteral cipher has been applied by Mrs. Gallup both to 
Bacon's philosophical works and the plays with interesting 
results. As we have familiarized ourselves with it, let us use it 
for an experiment ; and first we will examine the adulatory ad- 
dress of I. M. in the First Folio of the "Shakespeare" Works, 
which is especially quoted in favor of the actor's authorship, 
and therefore furnishes us with an excellent example. 

To the memorie of M. iFSha^^fpeare. 

XTSJ'E E wondred (Shake-fpeare) that thou mnt'Jlfo/oone 

From the Worlds ^Sta^e^to the Graues-Tyring'TOome. 
Wee thought thee dead, but this thy printed ^orth^ 
Teh thy SpeBatorSjthat thou "Hyent'Ji hut forth 
To enter ln^ith applaufe. An AHors Art, 
Qan dye, and liue^to afle a fecond part. 
That's hut an Exit ofMortalitie ; 
This, a ^e-entrance toe flaudite, 

I M. 

To get at the secret message which this address contains we 
must remember that the letter a indicates the first, and the 
letter b the second font which carries the cipher. 

By referring to the biliteral alphabet it will be seen that 
when I. M.'s address is divided into groups of five letters, if 
the first and fifth letters, whether capitals or not, are from 

534 



CIPHERS 

the second or b font, we have S; if the third in the next group, 
E; if none of the letters in the next group are from the second 
font, we have A; if the first letter in the next is, we have R; 
if the fourth in the next, C; and if the three last in the next, we 
have H. We now have the word "Search." If we apply this 
process to the entire address, we have this startling message : 
"Search for keyes the headings of the comedies. Francis 
Baron of Verulam." This will be seen in the following par- 
adigm : — 

_ h£ raeiQOr ieofM WShak espea reTO? wondr 

/-k "D V" TT V "R ^ 

edsha kespe areth attho uwent sts^os £oneP 

? HE H,R A D 

romth e ^orl dsSta ge tot heGra uesTy rlngr 

I TT G S OFT 

oomeW eetho ughtt heede^ adbut thi_8t hyP^^ 

H F C 7ii ED 

ntedw orthT elsth ySpec tator sthat thouw 

entst butf rtlaT£ en|er witha pplau seAnA 

ctors ArtCa ndyea ndllu etoac t^ease condp 

artTh at^u tapx UoM ortal UieT hi sag 

eentr ancet oaPla udite. 



I.M. 

The First Folio of 1623, printed by William Jaggard, and 
the Second of 1632, by Thomas Cotes, reveal the remarkable 
fact that fonts of type of the same forms appear in both. A 
comparison of the introductory poem by Leonard Digges, for 
instance, plainly discloses this. There is also a difference in 
the spelling of several words, as well as a different placing of 
the second or h font letters. The purpose of this rearrange- 
ment of letters, it is explained, was to enfold a different mes- 
sage in the later issue which Rawley was instrumental in 

535 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

publishing. It should be noted also that the two fonts may be 
used interchangeably; in other words, to add to the difficulty 
of deciphering, the a font can be used for the h font on a 
message or part of a message. 

The complete cipher message in Digges's poem in the First 
Folio is as follows : — 

Francis of Verulam is author of all the plays heretofore pub- 
lished by Marlowe, Greene, Peele, Shakespeare, and of the 
twenty-two now put out for the first time. Some are alter'd to 
continue his history. Fr. St. A. 

The message in the same poem in the Second Folio by 
Rawley begins thus : — 

Many old poems of Sp. and Sh. at a due time (will) shew 
mayhap, w'ch MSS. F. hid. But such nere won great praise — 
look'd, men now say, so faire, etc. 

This is but a part of a longer message by Rawley beginning 
with the poem "Upon the Effigies." The abbreviations and 
elisions, made in it for brevity, render it somewhat obscure. 
Not only were the same emblematic head-pieces and colo- 
phons used by Bacon in various works, but the same type, and 
this practice was continued by Rawley after his death. 

It occurred to us that the best test of Mrs. Gallup's trust- 
worthiness as a decipherer would be to enfold in the body of 
the "I. M. Poem" a combination of German words, and 
submit it to her. We therefore had a photograph, many times 
enlarged, made of the poem, from which the letters were cut, 
and an alphabet made of the two fonts of type in which it was 
printed. Though time and patience had been devoted to dis- 
tinguishing between the letters t, n, e, o, u, and r, the proper 
ones were selected as nearly as possible, pasted upon a large 
sheet of cardboard, and then photographed down to the origi- 
nal size as found in the Folio. This we mailed Mrs. Gallup 
requesting her to favor us by deciphering it. In due time we 
received, with an apology for her " rusty German," the 
following : — 

536 



CIPHERS 

Search Kaiser Kultur Krieg Tod gemachten Macht ist Rachen 
of Verulam. 

While this contained several errors, we regarded it as a 
remarkable exhibition of Mrs. Gallup's skill, for we found that 
we had misplaced some letters. To make our test more diffi- 
cult the words comprising the hidden word "Search" were 
left unchanged, and were followed by our strange combination 
of words which used up all the letters in the word "Baron" 
in the Folio but the last letter n. This stray letter, however, 
was not the stumbling-block which we expected it to be, for 
Mrs. Gallup recognized and included the meaningless letter in 
her exhibit. We then corrected the work as carefully as pos- 
sible and returned it for revision. To our great satisfaction it 
proved to be correct, and we here give her reply: — 

Regarding the biliteral example I have examined the correc- 
tions and find them quite right. Everything else being as before, 
it reads — Search Kaiser Kultur Krieg unci Schlachten Macht ist 
Recht, n of Ferulam. Her solution and the poem follow. 

SEA R C H K 

Tothe memor ieofM WShak espea reWEE wondr 

A I S E R K U 
©dSha k£8p© areth attho uwent 8t_so£ poneF 

L JT U R K R I 
romth ©Worl dsSta ^etot heGra uesTy ri_ngr 

B G U N 3) S C 
oome^ eetho ughtt heede ad"but. thiet hypri 

H L A C H T E 
nt edw orthT elsth ySp^c ta tor £that thotiw 

N M A C H T I 
entst but fo rtnTo enter wl tha EP^^^ seAnA 

S T »R 5 ^ H T 
ctor£ AxtCa ndyea ndliu etoac tease condp 

U E V E R U 
artTh atsbu tanEx ItofM ortal itieT hisaR 



eetitr ancet oaPla udite. 



537 



I.M. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 



To thememorie oflsA.ff^.Sha^^Jpeare. 

'S/^^ ^ ii^ondred (Shake-fpeare) that thou we?n'ftfofoone 

From the Tf^orldsSta^ejo theGraueS'Tyring-roomz, 
Wee thought thee dead, hut this thy printed "^orth^ 
Tels thy Speflators^that thou went ft hut forth 
To enter with applaufe. An ABors Art, 
Qin dye, and line jtouHe afecondpart. 
That's hut an Exit ofMortalitie ,- 
This, a %e-entran(e to a Tlandite. 

I Mc 

ALPHABET OF ENLARGED ITALIC AND ROMAN LETTERS IN THE " I. M. POEM," 
WITH ADDITIONAL LETTERS FROM FIRST FOLIO NECESSARY TO COMPLETE 
GERMAN WORDS CONCEALED IN IT:— 

A B A B A B 




17 ^^^^ff^ 

f, d d I I t t 

MY ^ e e mm u u 




Wim f f 



SSSS^Z y 



538 



CIPHERS 




This example should satisfy one whatever his preconceived 
opinion may be, that the claim of those who have studied 
Bacon's biHteral cipher that he made use of it, is not unreason- 
able. So much has been attempted to controvert this claim, 
that our success in the test given impelled us to go farther in 
testing the validity of this particular cipher, especially as 
many Baconians still decline to admit it to discussion; only, 
however, by discarding several valuable additions to Baconian 
literature which they have adopted, can they be quite consist- 
ent. As already stated we do not wonder that so many are 
skeptical regarding the existence of ciphers in works ascribed 
to Bacon, because of the difficulties which present themselves 
to every one who attempts to study them, but we believe that 
any one with good eyes and an ambition to master these dif- 
ficulties can do so by persistent labor, as much labor, for in- 
stance, as would be required in mastering a difficult foreign 
tongue. 

A CIPHER IN THE SECOND FOLIO 

To test the validity of a cipher in the Second Folio we offer 
a more lengthy experiment; and, first present an enlarged 
alphabet of the two fonts, found in the adulatory poem of 
Leonard Digges ; and taking Sonnets xxxii, xxxvi, xxxviii, 

539 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 
AB AB AB AB 

m ni 
n n 






i 


i 


r 


r 


s 


f 


t 


t 


u 


u 


V 


<v 


^ 


IP 


X 


X 


y 


y 




<, 



540 



XXXII. 

jf thou surrvia:emjivell contented day. 
When that churl death my bones Vtth dust shall coVer 
s/fnd shalt by fortune once more re-surroeyi 
These poor rude lines of thy deceased LoVer: 
Qompare them with the hetter'tng of the time, 
^nd thouorh they heoutstript by every pen , 
^ser^e them for my loVe, not for their rhyme, 
Exceeded by the height of happier men. 
Oh then Vouchsafe me but this loVmg thou^7t. 
Had my friends Muse gro'^nmth this groVtng age, 
A dearer birth than this h\s loMe had hrou^n 
To march in ranks of better equipage: 
^ut since he died and Toets better prove, 
Theirs for their style Vllreadjnsfor his lo<ve* 

XXXYI. 

Let me confess that we tivo must be t^ain. 

Although our undivided loyes are one: 
So shall thoseblots that do'^ith me remain. 
Without thy help, by me be borne alone. 

Jn our two loVes there is hut one respect. 

Though in ourliVes a separable spite. 

Which thoucrh it alter not l6Ve's sole effect, 

Yet doth it steal sweet hours from love's delight, 

J may not evermore ackno'^ledge thee. 
Lest my be-^ ailed guilt should do thee shame, 
T^r thou "^ith public kindnefs honour me, 
Vnlefs thou take that honour from thy name i 
(But do not sov I love theein such sort^ 
As thou being mine^ mine is thy good report. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 
XXXV ilL 

Ho'^ can mjMuse'^ant suhiect to innjent, 
Wlnle thou dost hreathe, that pours t into my ^erse 
Thine o^n sMet aroument, too excellent 
For eyeryvul^ar paper to rehearser 
0, gtye thjself the thanks, if aught inmz 
Wo r thy perusa Island aga ins t thy s igh t ; 
Por^ho's so dumb that cannot write to thee. 
When thou thyself dost gi've in'Vent ion light? 
Se thou the tenth Muse, ten times morein'^orth 
Than those old nine'^hich rhymers in<vocate; 
j(nd he that calls on thee, let him bring forth 
Eternal numbers to outlinje loner date, 

jfmy slight Muse do please these curious days-. 
The pain he mine, but thine shall he the praise. 

Yet he seems to set the greatest store by his'^ork^ 

and following Bacon's directions, we enfolded in them a poem 
of our own, adding a prose line to contain the signature, which 
was then photographed down to the proper size so as to show 
a facsimile of the sonnets enfolding the poem in the bi-formed 
alphabet given on page 540. This we mailed to Mrs. Gal- 
lup, which reached her two days later, and was returned to us 
by next mail with the poem correctly transcribed without a 
single error. The title was "The Library," but we left it out 
to avoid furnishing the decipherer with a clue to the subject 
of the poem. 

Sonnet XXXIL and part of XXXVL, containing first 
stanza of poem by author as marked by Mrs. Gallup 
using letters from poem of Digges in second Folio (page 

540). 

542 



T 


H 





U 


G 


H 


T 


Iftho 


usurv 


iverc^ 


wellc 


onten 


tedda 


vWhen 





li 


'b 


S 


T 


H 


E 


thatc 


hurla 


eathm 


^bone 


swith 


dusts 


hallc 


D 


U 


S 


t" 


"* 


E 


M 


overA 


ndsha 


Ithyf 


ortun 


eonce 


raorer 


e£urv 


E 


K 





"y 


G 


E 


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THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

This Is the entire poem enfolded, to test the decipherer's 
skill, which was marked as shown in above partial exhibit. 

Though tombs the dust of men of Genius claim, 
They still survive immortalized by Fame; 
Here with them thou mayst hold communion still, 
And of their Wisdom freely drink thy fill. 

But what is learned that must thou wisely do 
If thou wouldst reap, for this is ever true. 
Who learns and learns but does not what he knows 
Is one who plows and plows but never sows. 

James P. Baxter. 

These examples, one from each Folio, ought to be worthy of 
the attention even of Stratfordians. 

Of course, when the statement was made that a cipher 
existed in the "Shakespeare" plays, as well as in Bacon's 
philosophical works, and, especially, the claim to a more 
extended authorship, there was a storm of protest, which for 
a time drowned all attempts to obtain a hearing. "Mrs. 
Gallup was a fraud, and the cipher story an invention." She 
had "falsified history," and translations of the "Odyssey" 
and "Iliad," purporting to have been found in "Edward II," 
"Anatomy of Melancholy," and "De Augmentis," showed 
that she had "cribbed from other translators, especially 
Pope." But if she was an impostor, would she have been so 
unwise as to make her thesis so preposterous at the outset as 
to render it impossible of acceptance ? 

These translations purported to be found in cipher in works 
which the literary world believed belonged to three different 
authors. Granted that Bacon might put cipher stories in his 
own books, how could he do so in the books of others ? No 
wonder the claim was regarded as nonsensical. The over- 
enthusiasm of these critics led them to hasty conclusions and 
mortifying confutations. 

It is certain that one of the most remarkable disclosures of 
the cipher is the English translation of the "Odyssey" and 
"Iliad" of Homer; the "Eclogues" of Virgil and other poems, 

544 



CIPHERS 

the declared product of Bacon's youthful brain, which the de- 
cipherer says she was surprised and disturbed at finding in 
her way when tracing the story of Bacon's life. To give an 
adequate idea of these remarkable translations would require 
a volume, hence we must confine ourselves to a few brief 
excerpts from the "Iliad." 
Incited by Minerva, Pandarus wounds Menelaus : — 

She sought brave Pandarus amidst the band 
That follow'd him from the ^sepus' streams; 
And, standing near him, spake in winged words: 

"Wouldst thou now Pandarus, Lycaon's son, 
Lend ear unto the counsels that I give, 
No longer would thy bow, its strong cord slack. 
Hang idly. Thou a bitter shaft wouldst aim 
At Menelaus, winning endless fame. 
And thanks and favor, — golden gifts as rare 
As prince or king can offer unto one 
Whom he delights to honor, — for indeed 
All Trojans would rejoice, could they behold 
Brave Menelaus laid upon the pyle, 
Slain by an arrow from thy mighty bow. 
Especially shall Paris' heart be glad; 
No limit shall there be to gratitude. 
Nor to the treasure in rich store for thee. 
Come now, I pray thee, send thy mighty shaft 
Into their midst, and vow unto Apollo 
A splendid hecatomb of firstling lambs." 

So saying, his unthinking mind she won. 
In haste, straightway, his polished bow he took, 
That from the wild goat's branching horns was fashioned. 
Once from the ambush on a mountain side, 
Lying in wait, he saw that noble pair 
Proudly uplifted, and the bounding goat 
Emerged to the light. There clear he saw it 
Against the cavern's mouth, and taking aim, 
His winged shaft that square white breast did pierce, 
And on the rocks supine the creature lay. 
These horns, polished and golden tipped, became 
The bow Lycaon's son, most masterful, 
Did bend. The point he rested on the ground, 
And from his quiver taking off the cap. 
Fitted an arrow's notch unto the cord. 
While, round about him, shields were closely ranked, 

545 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

By his companions, lest the watchful Greeks 
Espying him should take away his life, 
Ere martial Menelaus should be slain, — 
The leader brave of all the Grecian hosts. 

So Pandarus drew back the tough hide string 
Until his head did rest against his breast, 
While the shaft's barb nigh to the bow was brought 
A moment, ere the impatient arrow sped 
In swift flight thro' the camp, on deadly quest. 

Ah! Menelaus, then thy hour had come, 
Had not blue-orbed Pallas at thy side 
Repelled that shaft. Even as a watchful mother 
Would brush a fly from her fair, sleeping child, 
Minerva's hand the sharp point turned aside, 
And firm infixed in his girdle's clasp. 
Its course thus silently and swiftly stayed. 
That wicked arrow little harm might work, 
Yet did its point break through the tender skin; 
And the white columns of those ivory thighs, 
The sturdy knees, and the fair feet below, 
Were bathed in blood, black as the sacred Styx. 
Then began that heroes heart to quail with fear; 
But, looking down, the cord outside he saw, 
And once more gathered courage in his breast. 

Meanwhile, across the plain, the Trojan hosts 
In warlike guise advancing, might be seen. 
Then would you not surprise brave Agamemnon, 
Nor see him hesitate nor shun the fight; 
But hastening forth, he bad Eurymedon, 
The son of Ptolymaeus, to be nigh 
With steeds and chariot against a time 
That, wearied with the labors of the field, 
He might gain respite. Many hurried on; 
To these he spake swift words of cheer, thus saying: 

"Argives! remit not any of your ardor, 
For Jove will not of falseness be the abettor; 
The flesh of all false Trojans shall be food 
To cormorants. Ay, and their wives and children 
(Since they this solemn league did violate, 
And first did offer injury), for this. 
Shall hence within our sable ships be borne, 
As we return to our dear native land 
Triumphant conquerors. Then shall fair Troy, 
And all that mighty band, lie low in the dust." 

546 



CIPHERS 

Like wintry mountain torrent roaring loud 
That frights the shepherd, in the deep ravine 
Mixing the floods tumultuously that pour 
From forth an hundred gushing springs at once, 
Thus did the deafening battle din arise. 
When meeting in one place with direful force, 
In tumult and alarms, the armies joined. 
Then might of warrior met an equal might; 
Shields clashed on shields, the brazen spear on spear. 
While dying groans mixed with the battle cry 
In awesome sound; and steeds were fetlock deep 
In blood, fast flowing, as the armies met. 

The translations from Homer especially drew the fire of 
critics. What appeared to be at first sight the most serious 
charge, cribbing, Mrs. Gallup promptly met. We will briefly 
quote from her reply to Marston's attack in the "Nineteenth 
Century": — 

Any statement that I copied from Pope, or from any source 
whatever, the matter put forth as deciphered from Bacon's 
works, is false in every particular. . . . Knowing that Pope's was 
considered the least correct of several of the English translations, 
yet, perhaps, the best known for its poetic grace, it is hardly 
reasonable to suppose that I should have copied his, had I been 
dependent upon any translation for the deciphered matter. Ba- 
con says his earliest work upon the Iliad was done under instruc- 
tors. There were Latin translations extant In his day, which 
were equally accessible to Pope a century later. A similarity 
might have arisen from a study by both of the same Latin text. 

Any one who reads and compares Bacon's translations with 
Ogilby's and Pope's, as the present writer has done, will be 
fully convinced that the decipherer was not their author. If 
they were youthful work, they must have been written before 
Bacon went to France in 1576, and were in manuscript near 
forty years before being put into cipher. There is no reason 
why Ogilby, who not far from this time was about Gray's 
Inn, may not have seen them before making his transla- 
tion. We find that Pope was familiar with Ogilby. Says 
Spence: "The perusal of Ogilby's Homer and of Sandy's Ovid 

547 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

filled him with delight." ^ His "Iliad" in manuscript is still 
preserved in the British Museum, and is interesting as showing 
variations from the printed work. From Lord Bolingbroke it 
passed to Mallet who bequeathed it to the Museum. We find 
Pope thus describing his method of working which is illuminat- 
ing:— 

In translating both the Iliad and the Odyssey, my usual 
method was to take advantage of the first heat; and then to cor- 
rect each book, first by the original text, then hy other transla- 
tions ; and lastly to give it a reading for the versification only.^ 

This seems to have been overlooked by Marston and other 
critics, and we call attention to it in support of the decipherer's 
contention. 

So eager were Mrs. Gallup's critics to discredit her that they 
wrote much of which doubtless they are now ashamed. This 
we will pass, and speak only of some of the indictments urged 
against her, a prominent one being the use in the deciphered 
writings of "Americanisms" unknown in Bacon's day, for- 
getting that many so-called Americanisms were everyday 
English in the seventeenth century. Bacon never could have 
written "Brittain," nor "Ended now is my great desire to sit 
in the British throne ; nor honor for honour." Of course the 
critic showed his gross ignorance of Bacon's philosophical 
works, as well as of the dramas, for Bacon did write " Brit- 
taine" in the "Advancement of Learning," and he often used 
the phrase "in" instead of "on" the throne; in fact, this 
peculiar use of the word by Bacon, and its frequent appear- 
ance in the "Shakespeare" Works, is extremely significant. 
Bacon also used "honor," and in the plays it often occurs. 

Lee, as usual, settles the question of the biliteral cipher, if 
positive declaration is sufficient to settle it. He declares that 
he has collected twenty-five copies of the Folio, and "no 

^ Joseph Spence, Anecdotes, Observations, etc., p. 270. London, 1820. 
* Rev. Alexander Dyce, The Poetical Works oj Alexander Pope, vol. i, p. xli. 
Boston, 1853. 

548 



CIPHERS 

cipher exists in it"; and of the use in books of different fonts 
of type, "Nothing is more frequent than such mixtures in 
books." This last statement is too well known to mention. If 
the use of several fonts of type had not been common in 
Bacon's time, he would never have ventured to use his biliteral 
cipher. If Lee had soberly examined the subject, he would 
have seen that it was not a question of the use of different 
fonts of type which was involved, but the method of such use, 
and so would have avoided his irrelevant declaration. 

The numerous verbal criticisms exploited by correspondents 
of publications considered authoritative, are remarkable for 
their display of ignorance. Mrs. Gallup has answered many 
of them, and were it worth while it could be easily shown that 
hardly a verbal criticism thus far adduced possesses validity. 
The only effect which they can have is to strengthen the 
Baconian argument. The same may be said of the historical 
criticisms of Mr. Rait in the "Fortnightly Review." He 
says : — 

No reader of Mr. Froude can forget this brilliant, if somewhat 
brutal, description of the scene at Fotheringay Castle, or his pic- 
ture of the doomed Queen standing "on the black scaffold with 
the black figures all around her, blood-red from head to foot." 
Mr. Froude had some authority for his phrase; one contempo- 
rary writer does remark that she was executed "tout en rouge." 
But the majority of contemporary accounts go to show that her 
costume, after she had disrobed for the block, consisted of brown 
velvet and black satin, and their statement is confirmed by the 
contemporary picture, painted to commemorate the Queen's 
death. We must therefore grant the "tout en rouge," though 
Bacon could scarcely have seen the manuscript of the French- 
man who wrote it; but the picturesque "blood-red" bears the 
unmistakable mark of Mr. Froude, and when the cipher tells us 
that Mary "stood up In a robe of blood-red," we can only con- 
clude that Francis Bacon was the real author of a "History of 
England from the Death of Wolsey to the Defeat of the Spanish 
Armada," hitherto attributed to James Anthony Froude. Any 
remaining doubt on this point will be removed when the reader 
finds, on page 312, the words "our colonies In all the regions of 

549 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

the globe, from remote East to a remoter West." It Is as likely 
that Bacon wrote Pope's Homer and Froude's History as that 
he penned these words in the reign of King James I. For where 
were the colonies? 

Yet Lingard, the Catholic historian, who would have been 
only too glad to differ with Froude, with whom he was at odds, 
and delighted to expose a flaw in his work, says : — 

She wore a mantle of black printed satin, lined with black 
taffeta, and faced with sable, with a long train, and sleeves hang- 
ing to the ground. Her purpoint was of black figured satin, and 
under it a bodice, unlaced at the back, of crimson satin, with the 
skirt of crimson velvet.^ 

In this he is supported by the most reliable contemporary 
accounts. 

Mr. Rait takes up the story of the ring, an engraving and 
pedigree of which we shall produce, and dismisses as a romance 
this oft-repeated tradition which is quite as well authenticated 
as most of the history we possess. 

The word " curricula," applied to courses of study, greatly 
amuses him. Bacon never used this modern word; "it could 
only mean race-courses" In his day. Again Mr. Rait makes a 
hasty conclusion. We find this word applied to courses of 
study in Scotland certainly before 1633, and Bacon, who was 
deeply interested in applying words to new uses, would have 
known this.^ Perhaps Mr. Rait would not admit that he 
might be the author of its application to courses of study. 

Mr. Rait's crowning discovery, which is intended to give 
the coup de grace to the Baconian heresy, is the study of 
Davison's connection with the execution of the Queen of 
Scots. The account says, what is unquestioned, that "th* 
haplesse prisoner must needs chuse from the counsel! of her 
foe to obtaine any defender." Then took place the interview 
between Burleigh and Leicester 

^ Lingard, History of England, vol. vi, p. 466. 
* Munimenta, University of Glasgow, in, 379. 



CIPHERS 

to which was summoned the Queen's Secretary -who was so 
threaten'd by his lordship — on paine of death, et cetera, — that 
hee sign'd for the Queen, and affixed th' great seale to the dread- 
ful death-warrant. The life of the Secretarie was forfeit to the 
deede when Her Majesty became aware that so daring a crime 
had become committed, but who shall say that the blow fell upon 
the guilty head; for, truth to say, Davison was only a feeble in- 
strument in their hands, and life seem'd to hang in th' ballance, 
therefore blame doth fall on those men, great and noble though 
they be, who led him to his death. ^ 

The life of Davison certainly shows that he lived twenty- 
one years after Mary's death, and died peacefully in his bed. 
A critical examination, however, of the cipher story does not 
conflict with this. A correction of a slight error, a change of 
"his" for "her" before the last word, so as to read "her 
death" sets the matter right. 

By law the life of Davison "was forfeit" in legal parlance, 
and the life of not only Mary "seemed" but did "hang in the 
ballance," which minimized his responsibility, as he knew that 
Elizabeth, Burleigh, and Leicester were determined upon her 
execution, and guilty In leading "him to her death." 

The fleer at the mention of English colonies East and West 
In the reign of James seems unfortunate. The strenuous efforts 
of the English to obtain a foothold In the East began early. 
The East India Company was chartered by Elizabeth In 1600, 
and the establishments of "factories" or trading posts which 
resulted In the domination of India began at once. Lancaster 
set up a "House of Trade" at Bantam In 1603. In 1607 the 
English "settled agencies" In Slam, and In 161 2 captured 
Swalley In Surat, and, holding It, established trade with set- 
tlements In the Persian Gulf. 

Previous to 1619 the English had established commercial 
posts In Japan, on the Island of Amboyna, at Mocha, and other 
Eastern points, and In 1619 "exercised sovereignity" In the 
Island of Great Banda, with thirty officials and a military 

^ Biliteral Cipher, etc., p. 165. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

establishment of two hundred and fifty. In the West the 
Bahamas were annexed to England in 1578, Raleigh settled 
his colony at Roanoke in 1587. Barbados was "annexed" to 
England in 1605, and colonized in 1625. The colony of James- 
town, Virginia, was established in 1607, the Popham Colony 
at Sagadahoc in Maine the same year, and the Plymouth 
Colony in 1620. No doubt Englishmen of Bacon's time com- 
placently regarded all these ventures East and West, as the 
beginnings of English colonial power, as they proved to be, 
and to speak of them as such should hardly subject Bacon to 
animadversion. It should be remembered that he was a friend 
of Southampton and Pembroke,^ members of the Virginia 
Company, and in 1610 was a patentee in a colonial project in 
Newfoundland ; so that he must have been familiar with the 
colonial ventures of his time.^ 

Evidently Rait, when he wrote his criticism of Mrs. Gallup, 
believed that she invented the allusion to colonies, or he would 
not with happy confidence have declared: "We have surely 
heard the last of the biliteral cipher." More marvelous, indeed, 
than the abused cipher is the fact that men like Marston, Rait, 
Lang, Lee, Robertson, and their confreres should venture to 
deal with historical questions in this amorphous manner. 

Mrs. Gallup, speaking of the philosophical works of Bacon, 
tells us that the biliteral cipher 

is found in the Italic letters that appear in such unusual and un- 
explained prodigality in the original editions of Bacon's works. 
Students of these old editions have been impressed with the ex- 
traordinary number of words and passages, often non-important, 
printed in Italics, where no known rule of construction would 
require their use. There has been no reasonable explanation of 
this until now it is found that they were so used for the purposes 
of the cipher. These letters are seen to be in two forms — two 
fonts of type — with marked differences. In the capitals these 

^ William Herbert, Earl of Pembroke, the "W.H.," as most Stratfordians 
fancy, who was the begetter of the Sonnets. 

^ H. J. Robinson, Colonial Chronology. London, 1892. Cf. Hakluyt, Voyages 
of the English Nation. Hazard's State Papers. 

552 



CIPHERS 

are easily discerned, but the distinguishing features in the small 
letters, from age of the books, blots, and poor printing, have been 
more difficult to classify, and close examination and study have 
been required to separate and sketch out the variations, and edu- 
cate the eye to distinguish them. From the disclosures found in 
all these, it is evident that Bacon expected this Biliteral cipher 
would be the first to be discovered. . . . 

The plays of Shakespeare lose nothing of their dramatic power 
of wondrous beauty, nor deserve the less admiration of the scholar 
and critic, because inconsistencies are removed in the knowledge 
that they came from the brain of the greatest student and writer 
of that age, and were not a "flash of genius" descended upon 
one of peasant birth, less noble history, and of no preparatory 
literary attainments. . . . 

The remarkable similarity in the dramatic writings attributed 
to Greene, Peele, Marlowe and Shakespeare, has attracted 
much attention, and the biographers of each have claimed that 
both style and subject matter have been imitated, if not appro- 
priated by the others. The practical explanation lies in the fact 
that one hand wrote them all. . . . 

To doubt the ultimate acceptance of the truths brought to light 
would be to distrust that destiny in which Bacon had such an 
abiding faith for his justification, and which, in fact, after three 
centuries, has lifted the veil, and brought us to estimate the 
character and accomplishments, trials and sorrows of that great 
genius, with a feeling of nearness and personal sympathy, far 
greater than has been possible from the partial knowledge which 
we have heretofore enjoyed.^ 

Bacon informs us in the cipher that he and Robert Essex 
were children of Elizabeth and Dudley, who were married se- 
cretly in Lord Pembroke's house; that owing to the Queen's 
pride and conceptions of state policy, the marriage was kept 
secret, but being discovered by him he was sent with Paulet to 
France, and there acquired an affection for Marguerite of 
Valois which lasted him through life. His residence at the 
Court of France, where he had reveled in the poetic atmos- 
phere which pervaded it, inspired him to undertake the crea- 
tion of a similar literature for his own country. 

^ The Biliteral Cipher, etc., p. 4. 

553 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Spenser, a needy clerk of Leicester, and several others in 
similar circumstances, were not averse to the use of their 
names ; hence most of his poetical works passed as Spenser's, 
and his dramatic works as Greene's, Marlowe's, Peele's, and 
Shakspere's, all actors, while he made an early venture in 
philosophy under the names of Bright and Burton. There 
were other works which we will not enumerate. Dominated 
by the expectation that he would be recognized by Elizabeth 
as her son, but obliged to conceal the secret of his birth, he 
labored hopefully in his beloved profession of literature, con- 
fiding his dangerous secret only to his cipher. 

THE CIPHERS IN BACON's WORKS 

We will make a few extracts taken at random from the 
translation of the biliteral cipher made by Mrs. Gallup from 
the "Shakespeare" and Philosophical Works of Bacon, mod- 
ernizing the sixteenth-century spelling, in which the transla- 
tion appears, to render it more acceptable to modern readers, 
realizing at the outset how well-nigh impossible it is for any 
one living in an age like ours to give the subject a patient hear- 
ing; yet convinced that by so doing one will be amply repaid. 
Of course, well-settled beliefs may be disturbed, and preju- 
dices rudely aroused, but upon calm reflection it will be found 
that the revelations made by the cipher illumine many obscure 
passages in the tortuous labyrinths of sixteenth-century his- 
tory, hitherto meagerly explored, but into which we will later 
make a brief excursion. 

By the cipher the student of sixteenth-century literature 
will find questions which have confused his predecessors made 
unmistakably plain. Let us listen to the author of the cipher. 

Directions to his decipherer ^ 

Take, read ! it is sore necessity that doth force me to this very 
dry and also quite difficile Cipher as a way or method of trans- 
mission. . . , My stage plays have all been disguised (to wit, 

^ From the Advancement of Learning, 1605. 

554 



CIPHERS 

many In Greene's name or In Peele's, Marlowe's, a few, such as 
the Queen's Masques, and others of this kind, pubHshed for me 
by Jonson, my friend and co-worker) since I relate a secret his- 
tory therein, a story of so stern and tragic quality, It Illy suited 
my lighter verse In the earlier works. 

It surely must prove that they are the work of my hand when 
you, observing this variety of forms, find out the Cipher so de- 
vised to aid a decipherer In the study of the interior history. By 
the use of this blllteral Cipher, or the highest degree of Cipher 
writing, I may give not merely simple rules for such matters, but 
also some hint that may be of use, or an example. 

And then these words of encouragement, vibrant with hope 
yet with a suggestion in them of fear : — 

It Is fame that all seek, and surely so great renown can come 
in no other study. If, therefore, you commence the study, the 
laurel must at some future day be bestowed upon you, for your 
interest must daily grow, and none could win you away. 

From "Twelfth Night": — 

My keys were formed before one of my plays was put to- 
gether, and all was very well planned. Old men might fail to 
see a curious, or rather a peculiar commingling of letters in the 
printed pages sent out, but young eyes might note it, therefore 
there are some marks employed for signs to my decipherer — 
yours would see in truth more quickly — and so no evils hap 
from so daring an experiment. In my History of Henry the 
Seventh, this is explained. Omit Finis Actus. It may add to your 
confusion in the beginning, but you can understand my other 
Cipher must have occasionally a few more letters. These having 
been used In your former work, as you remember, will have 
moved inquiry. If you Inquired of anyone except myself how 
should It bring a reply.? This is for yourself, None but he that 
holdeth my keys should make attempt to make Ciphers, and 
one who hath a key should rest not till he hath searched out all 
hidden matters. It is to man's glory to find out secrets. The 
wise have the fruit of much labor of other men, and do more 
profit thereby than they themselves. Thus shall you reap where 
we have sown If you weary not before nightfall. 

When Henry the Seventh is joined with the six stage plays 
first set forth In this name, that Cipher, we now would fain see 
wrought out, can be discovered. 

555 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

The Birth Secret ^ 

Whilst my mother, the Queen, lay prisoner In London Tower 
she wedded the Earl, my father — Robert Dudley — and he that 
addresseth you In these various Ciphers was born a prince of our 
mighty country. 

Another son was In due time born, whose spirit much re- 
sembled. In the main qualities, that of our mere, but who, by the 
wish and request of our father bore his christian name, Robert. 
He, reared by Walter Devereux, bore naturally that name, after 
a time coming into the titles of Earl of Essex and of Ewe. 

The desire of our father, who remained a simple Earl although 
he was wedded to a reigning queen, was to make these affairs so 
well understood that the succession should be without question. 
To our mother no such measure was pleasing. By no argument, 
how strong soever, might this concession be obtained, and after 
some time he was fain to appeal the case for us directly to Parlia- 
ment to procure the crown to be entailed upon Elizabeth and the 
heirs of her body. He handled everything with greatest measure, 
as he did not press to have the act penned by way of any declara- 
tion of right, also avoiding to have the same by a new law or ordi- 
nance, but choosing a course between the two, by way of sure 
establishment, under covert and indifferent words, that the in- 
heritance of this crown, as hath been mentioned here, rest, remain 
and abide in the Queen, and as for limitation of the entail, he 
stopped with heirs of the Queen's body, not saying the right heirs, 
thereby leaving it to the law to decide, so as the entail might 
rather seem a favor to her — Elizabeth — and to their children, 
than as intended disinheritance to the House of Stuart. It was 
in this way that it was framed, but failed in effect on account 
of the ill-disposition of the Queen to open and free acknowledg- 
ment of the marriage. But none could convince such a way- 
ward woman of the wisdom of that honorable course.^ 

Disclosure of Bacon'' s birth ^ 

The earliest shows of favour of this royal mother, as patroness 
rather than parent, were seen when she honored our roof so far 
as to become the guest of good Sir Nicholas Bacon — that kind 
man we supposed to be our father then, as well we might, for his 

* From Bacon's Parasceve. 

^ This is confirmed in a quotation from Camden; see ante, p. 1 1. 

^ From The Mirror of Modesty, 1584. 

556 



CIPHERS 

unchangeable gentle kindness, his constant carefulness for our 
honor, our safety, and true advancement. These became marked, 
and the study that we pursued did make our tongue sharp to 
reply when she asked us a perplexing question, never, or at least 
seldom, lacking Greek epigram to fit those she quoted, and we 
were often brought into her gracious presence. It liveth, as do 
dreams of yesternight, when now we close our eyes, the stately 
movements, grace of speech, quick smile, and sudden anger, that 
oft, as April clouds come across the sun, yet as suddenly are 
withdrawn, filled us with succeeding dismay, or brimmed our 
cup immediately with joy. 

It doth as often recur that the Queen, our royal mother, some- 
times said in Sir Nicholas' ear on going to her coach: "Have him 
well instructed in knowledge that future station shall make 
necessary." Naturally quick of hearing, it reaching our ears, was 
caught on the wing, and long turned and pondered upon, but we 
found no meaning, for all our wit, no whispered word having 
passed the lips of noble Sir Nicholas on the matter. 

The Disclosure 

We were in presence — with a number of ladies, and several 
of the gentlemen of the court, when a silly young maiden babbled 
a tale, Cecil, knowing her weakness, had whispered in her ear. 
A dangerous tidbit it was, but it well did satisfy the malicious 
soul of a tale-bearer such as R. Cecil, that concerned not her as- 
sociate ladles at all, but the honor, the honesty of Queen Eliza- 
beth. No sooner breathed aloud than it was heard by the Queen, 
no more, in truth, than half heard then it was avenged by the 
outraged Queen. 

He is sent abroad ^ 

Elizabeth had rested content with the marriage ceremony per- 
formed In the Tower, and would not have asked for regal, or 
even noble pomp — with attendants and witnesses; nor would 
she have wished for more state, because being quite bent upon 
secrecy, she with no want of justice contended, "The fewer eyes 
to witness, the fewer tongues to testify to that which had been 
done." 

As hath been said, Earl of Leicester then foresaw the day when 
he might require the power this might grant him, and no doubt 
this proved true, although we, the first-born son of the secret 

^ From the Planetomackia, 1585. 

557 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

union, have profited by no means therefrom, — since we unfor- 
tunately incurred his great and most rancourous ill will many 
years back. As you, no doubt, are cognisant of our summary 
banishment to beautiful France, which did intend our correction, 
but opened to us the gates of Paradise, you know that our sire, 
more even than our royal mother, was bent upon our dispatch 
thither, and urged vehemently that subsequent, artfully contrived 
business — concerning affairs of state — intrusted to us in much 
the same manner, we thought, as weighty affairs were laid upon 
Sir Amyas, with whom they sent us to the French Court. 

By some strange Providence, this served well the purposes of 
our own heart; for, making cyphers our choice, we straightway 
proceeded to spend our greatest labors therein, to find a method 
of secret communication of our history to others outside the 
realm. 

His love of Marguerite of Valois ^ 
Bacon often refers to the idyllic story of his love of Mar- 
guerite of Valois — the Daisy of the Valley, the Rosalinde of 
the "Shepherd's Calendar" — and this is one of the allu- 
sions : — 

Since the former issue of this play, very seldom heard without 
most stormy weeping — your poet's commonest plaudit — we 
have all but determined on following the fortunes of these ill- 
fated lovers by a path less thorny. 

Their life was too brief — its rose of pleasure had but partly 
drunk the sweet dew of early delight, and every hour had begun 
to open unto sweet love, tender leaflets, in whose fragrance was 
assurance of untold joys that the immortals know. Yet it is a 
kind fate which joined them together in life and in death. It was 
a sadder fate befel our youthful love, my Marguerite, yet written 
out in the plays it scarce would be named our tragedy since 
neither yielded up life. But the joy of life ebbed from our hearts 
with our parting, and it never came again into this bosom in full 
flood-tide. O we were Fortune's fool too long, sweet one, and 
art is long. 

This stage-play in part will tell our brief love tale, a part is in the 
play previously named or mentioned as having therein one pretty 
scene, acted by the two. So rare (and most brief) the hard won 

* From Romeo and Juliet. 

558 



CIPHERS 

happiness, it afforded us great content to relive in the play all 
that as mist in summer morning did roll away. It hath place 
in the dramas containing a scene and theme of this nature, since 
our fond love interpreted the hearts of others, and in this joy, 
the joy of heaven was faintly guessed. 

We will now pass to the affair of Essex deciphered from the 
Folio of the "Spenser" Works, 1611 : — 

Two parts of my book, which I set before my last works, may 
be placed behind every other as you arrange the whole to de- 
cipher your instruction. I speak of Prosopo. and the Fairy 
Queene, but the other parts must stand thus, as here you find 
them. Let all the remainder be worked first, as they aid in the 
writing of my brother's history which was begun in the second 
part, or book, that doth commence one of my great ^ works of 
Science, and, — continued in the little work styled The Wisdom 
of the Ancients, and taken up in this poetical work that is repub- 
lished for this purpose, — maketh a complete abridgment of the 
history given fully in the great Cipher. 

As hath been said, many important papers having been de- 
stroyed by the Earl, many features of their plot were never 
brought out, E. Essex himself saying, "They shall be put where 
they cannot tell tales." But evidence was sufficient to prove the 
guilt both of my brother and Earl of Southampton. Essex, his 
plea, that he was not present at the consultation that five trea- 
son-plotting noblemen held at Drury-house, aided him not a 
whit, for his associates incriminated him, and such of their writ- 
ings as had not been destroyed were in the handwriting of my 
lord of Essex, as was shown at the trial, and they were acting as 
he directed. 

How like some night's horrible- vision this trial and awful tor- 
ture before his execution must ever be to me, none but the Judge 
that sitteth aloft can justly know. All the scenes come before me 
like the acted play, but how to put it away, or drive it back to 
Avernus, its home, O, who can divulge that greatest of secrets.^ 
None. 

This thought only is fraught with a measureless pain, that all 
my power can do nought for his memory. If he had but heard 
my advice, but he heeded his own unreasoning wishes only. 
Whilst succeeding barely in this attempt to so much as win a 

* That is, large. 

559 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

hearing, yet did the true love I bore so move me that, from my 
care of Essex, I took a charge that greatly imperiled my per- 
sonal pretensions, as I did occupy my utmost wit, and even ad- 
venture my own fortunes with the Queen, to attempt the rein- 
tegration of his. . . . 

Vantages acompted great, simply as the uncertain dreams or 
visions of night seem to us in after time. Ended now is my great 
desire to sit in British throne. Larger work doth invite my hand 
then majesty doth offer: to wield the pen doth ever require a 
greater mind then to sway the royal scepter. Ay, I cry to the 
Heavenly Aid, ruling oer all, ever to keep my soul thus humbled 
and content. 

From Henry FI, Part I 

Crowns must be as of old, night and daytime well attended, 
or some wild rout, waiting in ambush Rapin's black, opportune 
time, without a warning steal the glory of the land, leaving 
behind them merely desolation. This was narrowly averted in 
England, securely as her crown is watched, nor did these empty 
headed tools do ought but obey a superior mind, — that of my 
brother Essex. The rebels might do his bidding merely — that 
was the limit of their power or ability — and he alone did lay his 
plan. 

Had it not met the overturn deserved, the younger of the 
sons would inherit ere the elder. By law this could occur only 
when the rightful, or, as we may name him in our country, heir- 
apparent, hath waived his rights. . . . 

Essex nere did ought in a spirit of revenge, but simply that he 
might win the due rewards of courage or of valor, if this doth in 
any manner better term such virtue. His nature was not small, 
petty, or even dwarfed in development. It was larger in many 
directions than any, who now censure and decry him, possess. 
Among millions a voice like his reached our listening, most atten- 
tive ears. Wanting that sound, no other is sweet and this silence 
is a pain. 

That he did wrong me now is to be forgot, and wiped from the 
mind's recollection in my thoughts of the evil that hath come to 
us (chiefly to myself) by this rebellion of the Earl, but the love 
and tender regard, that marked all our first sunny young days 
when we were not oft to be found out of harmony, hath sway. 
Those hours still live in my memory, more than our first very 
open and sore disputes. 

560 



CIPHERS 

The Cipher in the First Folio ^ 

Any person using here the biliteral Cipher, will find a rule to 
be followed when writing the hidden letters in which are His- 
tories, Comedies, Tragedies; a Pastoral of the Christ; Homer's 
epics and that of Virgil, which are fully rendered in English 
poetry; the completion of my New Atlantis; Greene's Life; Story 
of Marlowe; the two secret epistles (expressly teaching a Cipher 
now for the first time submitted doubtfully for examination and 
study by any who may be sufficiently curious, patient, or in- 
dustrious); part of Thyrsis (Virgil's Eclogues); Bacchantes, a 
Fantasie ; Queen Elizabeth's Life (as never before truly published) : 
a Life of the Earl of Essex, and my owne. 

The Greek Poems from Titus Andronicus : — 

At first my plan of Cipher work was this: to show secrets that 
could not be published openly. This did so well succeed that 
a difi"erent (not dangerous) theme was entrusted to it; and after 
each was sent out a new desire possessed me, nor left me day or 
night until I took up again the work I love so fondly. 

Some school verses went into one, since I did deem them good — 
worthy of preservation in my truly precious casket studded thick 
with hours far above price. Even my translations of Homer's 
two immortal poems, as well as many more of less value, have 
a place in my Cipher, and the two our most worthy Latin singer 
left in his language I have translated and used in this way — Vir- 
gil's Eneid and Eclogues. Only a few of those I have turned 
from most vigorous Latin were put out. Most of the translations, 
as I have just said, appear in the work, and must not be held of 
little worth, for assuredly they are my best and most skilled work. 

This from "De Augmentis" accounts for what has been 
heretofore an insoluble mystery; namely, the appearance in 
the so-called "Shakespeare" plays of hundreds of lines found 
in writings ascribed to others, especially Spenser. According 
to this Bacon simply used some of his literary material over 
again : — 

I masqued many grave secrets in my poems which I have pub- 
lished, now as Peele's or Spenser's, now as my own. 

^ From the address of the nominal editors, Heminge and Condell. 

561 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Then again : — 

To Robert Greene did I entrust most of that work — rather his 
name appeared as author; therein you may find a large portion 
that, belonging truly to the realm of poetry, would well grace 
verse, yet it did not then seem fair matter for it. As plays some 
parts were again used. 

In 1632, the memorable year of the Second Folio, William 
Rawley published Bacon's "Sylva Sylvarum," prefacing it 
with these words in cipher: — 

Illy his lordship's works succeed when he Is dead, for the 
Cypher left Incomplete I have now finished. As you must note, 
the Court papers told the world no secrets, yet I have stumblingly 
proceeded with It and unwittingly used some letters wrongly. 

In this work Bacon gives us a glimpse of his diligence ; he 
says : — 

One must give as great a portion of time as seven days In the 
week can furnish, and must not use many hours for recreation, 
would he leave aught of any value to men, for life Is so short. It Is 
for this cause that I use my time so miserlike, never spending a 
moment idly, when in health. 

Of the difficulties in the Queen's marital situation, he says, 
speaking of the suit of one of her rejected lovers: — 

The royal suitor, however, was angered, and, great ado mak- 
ing, did so disturb our great men, — who, as birds are amidst 
hawkes, were thereat cowering with fear of public disgrace, — 
that many saw this. As it Influenced State affairs, It was admir- 
able. If no act made the heirs of Elizabeth rightfully bastard, it 
was proper some means to show legitimacy, that will in no way 
cause tumult throughout England, be offered. Any such meas- 
ure found no kind of regard in the sight of vain minded Queen 
Elizabeth, whose look traineth men as vain as her own self. 
This would-be idol of half the great princes of Europe, — con- 
cluding It would be less pleasing In a few years to have all the 
people know that she is the wife of the Earl of Leicester, than 
suppose her the Virgin Queen she called herself, — both props 
and shields alike despised, nor did she at any subsequent time 
reverse her decision. For such a trivial, unworthy, unrighteous 

562 



CIPHERS 

cause was my birthright lost. ... I for dear Hfe dare not to urge 
my claim, but hope that Time shall ope the way unto my right- 
ful honors. 

As he muses upon his hard fate he utters these thoughts : — 

Our light hath burned low, the beams of morning now burst 
upon our longing gaze and put to flight the black night's dragons 
of brooding gloom. For ourself the future bringeth surcease of 
sorrow. Had we no secret labors to perform, gladly would we 
Hsten to the footfall of Death, the somber herald; yet our wish is 
not as might afford our own life pleasure, till it, our work, be 
complete, inasmuch as this is more truly good and important, 
we do nothing doubt, than the works which our hand openly 
performeth. . . . 

Old men have been laid in the tomb and children have be- 
come men, yet this matter is in its feeble condition. 'T is still 
in the cradle, nor can I have great hope to see the maturity of 
this dearly loved, long cherished dream, promise — I might use 
a still stronger or truer word, since it is sometime — expectation. 
Then, too, sometimes the prize doth seem quite near — ■ the bow 
in all the clouds doth give me most trust in the Divine Eye 
watching the course of human life, guarding, guiding every foot- 
step, and sharing our many woes. 

At times a divinity seemeth truly to carve rudely hewed end 
into beauty, such as God must plan when we are shaped in His 
thought, inasmuch as He can, aye. He doth, see the whole of life 
ere we draw the first trembling breath. This doth aid us daily 
to climb the heights of Pisgah, where, crossing over, our souls 
do see the land of our longing desire. 

'T is not of others that I write so much, as of experiences un- 
common, and I hope to most, impossible, but this hath been a 
means of achievement of a labour for our fellows few could per- 
form. If my selfishness hath impelled me more than was proper, 
I trust somewhat to knowledge of like errors in their conduct; 
these teach men to judge his brother leniently. A man must 
observe all sorts of form or ceremony in his outer life, but the 
heart hath its own freedom, and hath no human ruler. However, 
himself is but meagre end to a man's seeking when it is made 
first and chief, so also is he a poor middle point, center, and axis 
of least action. His soul is little akin to things celestial, if like 
the earth he standeth fast on his center, for things that have 
affinity with the heavens, move on the center of another. If he 

563 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

would not be too earthly, akin to the dust, let him go forth in 
quest of knowledge, sow wide this true seed which may bear fruit 
to give glad harvests in the Eons to come. , . . Long years ago, 
when the Cipher in use at the present — in the works we publish 
as those of authors that we named some times past, together with 
all published with the name by which we are now known put 
upon title pages, — gave such a good assurance that secrets of 
great value might safely be entrusted to its keeping, a strong wish 
to make it so carry our invention itself to other times, also made 
constant employment of it a necessity. Although the resolution 
grew ever stronger, 't is a thing rare, as you well know, this keep- 
ing of a purpose unaltered through every change of a man's life, — 
so difficult as to seem impossible; yet are we so firmly fixed now 
in the resolve, it would be impossible for us to yield it up. 

This to his decipherer: — 

You are to get eleven old plays, published in the name I have 
used lately at the theatre, and many much valued by scenic 
Cesars. . . . And therein you will find the beginning of many 
stories, both in dramatic form (also in that raw unfinished form) 
and in Iambic verse. But the haste with which some parts were 
completed, will explain this. When these plays may come forth, 
for many reasons cannot now be determined, but I promise you it 
shall be soon. "Wisely and slow," is a proverb oft on my lips, and 
as oft unheeded even by myself. But an axe that cutteth well 
must be well sharpened — then it doth become us all to look 
well to our instruments: — ■ 

For you must cut apart my various books. 

Spreading them out upon a marked scrutoire, 

Which, as the chart or map the sailor hath 

Doth point out every country of the world, 

In fair, clear lines, this great expanse doth name, 

So fair and beauteous the bound I set. 

Though 't is at risk of this secret design. 

Then separate each part, to join again 

According to your guide hereby discloseth, 

In rich mosaics, wondrous to behold. 

To be admired by all the sons of men. 

Here is a crown, gem-starred, and golden scepter, 

A cross and ball — insignia of rank, 

Even of royalty, so pure and high 

No blur is on it, but like to frost flowers, 



CIPHERS 

January's blossoms icy white, 
It gleameth in the light of each fair morn. 
Oh let not man forget these words divine: 
"Inscrutable do hearts of kings remain." 
If he remark a pensive dying fall 
In the music of these strains, let him forbear 
To question of its meaning. List again, — 
As hath been, is, and evermore shall be — 
Ages retard your flight and turn to hear — 
Cor regis inscrutahile. Amen. 
Yet 't is the glory of our Heavenly King 
To shroud in mystery His works divine. 
And to kings mundane ever shall rebound 
In greatest compass glory to the names 
Of such as seek out Nature's mysteries; 
Fortune may aid him; Honor may attend; 
Truth waits upon him; as we look, cramped Art 
Doth reach forth to fair light, undreamed of lore; 
While Reputation soundeth through the world 
Unto Time's close, glory in (highest) measure, 
To him that to the depths doth search wide Seas, 
Did deep into the Earth, unto the Air 
And region of the Fire climb fearlessly, 
Till he the World, the Heavens and even the Universe, — 
With human eyes that better can discern 
Than mountain eagle, gazing at the sun, — 
Doth find out secrets hid from humankind 
Since the foundations of the earth were laid. 
Stamped with the impress of the Heavenly Hand; 
And in grave music deep to deep did call. 
While morning stars together sang a hymn 
Time lendeth to Eternity for aye. 

And of the proposed First Folio : — 

The new arrangement is not less weighed, studied, and care- 
fully balanced, for I aimed only to write with truth in every part, 
and to set that one gem above other treasure, that no man shall 
say in any time to be, "The fruit is as the apples that, turning 
to ashes, drove olden heroes to curse Sodom's deceltfulness." In 
due time a strength, far reaching thought greatly hath increased, 
cometh to your eye in this latter work, that also must be known 
to many by reading any such work as my drama entitled First 
Part of King Henry the Fourth. The Second Part of the same, 
and one entitled Othello, reveal knowledge of life wanting in 

S6S 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

the common plays that had this pen-name on title page. These 
are, as I many times have said, the crowning glory of my pen, even 
though there be degrees, as surely you must know, of excellence 
therein; but the cause you may as well have learned since it was 
clearly shown to depend upon times, and likewise upon the nature, 
as well of the hidden as of the open story. ^ Therefore some will 
be omitted from my Folio, but some retained for causes now 
given. 

To fix my rules well in your mind is the most essential thing at 
the moment, and many were put within those which one must 
acknowledge possess httle value. As half the number I shall as- 
semble have already appeared in Will Shakespeare's name, I 
think that it will be well to bring out the Folio, also, by some 
means in the same name, — although he be gone to that undis- 
covered country from whose borne no traveler returns, — be- 
cause our king would be prompt to avenge the insult if his right 
to reign were challenged, and the sword of a king is long and 
where 't will not extend thither he darteth it. And as concerneth 
the plays, the truth cometh forth more quickly from an error than 
from confusion, and therefore it is most certain that it would 
by far be more the part of wise and discerning minds to let this 
name of a man known to the theatre, and his former gay com- 
pany of fellow-players, stand thus on plays to him as little known, 
despite a long term of service, as to a babe. I, thinking expedient 
so to do, now obey the Scripture, and cast my very bread to the 
winds or sow it on the waters. How shall it be at the harvest.'' 
Fame it may chance for the works shall come, tho' not to the 
author who hid with so great pains his name that at this writing 't 
is quite unguessed. And the time I am given to spend upon the 
work is as gold, princely gems, or purple robes. ^ 

As some of the plays are histories they are not always men- 
tioned as dramas, but I will now make out a table naming all you 
are to decipher. There are five Histories as follows : The Life of 
Elizabeth, The Life of Essex, The White Rose of Britain, The 
Life and Death of Edward Third, the Life of Henry the Seventh; 
five Tragedies; Mary Queen of Scots, Robert the Earl of Essex, 
(my late brother) Robert the Earl of Leicester (my late father) 
Death of Marlowe, Anne Bullen; three Comedies: Seven Wise 
Men of the West, Solomon the Second, the Mouse-Trap. 

^ The "Doubtful Plays" so-called, and those assigned to Peele, Greene, and 
others. 

2 Biliteral Cipher, p. 157 et seq. 

566 



CIPHERS 

Of "Much Ado About Nothing," he says: — 

We place as great value upon this play as we shall any we can 
write, for it is our own father, his life, a theme so much in my 
own dark memory that I must needs think of it often, and thus 
its wrongs moving strong indignation within me, my tongue and 
pen are fired to eloquence. And the scenes do show the fury of 
the heart within them — the words burn with a celestial light, for 
to my soul It lent its ray divine, even as I wrote. 

Don John alone reflects the character of Leicester. 
Says Brandes: — 

In the person of Don John, the poet has depicted mere unmixed 
evil, and has disdained to supply a motive for his vile action In 
any single Injury received, or desire unsatisfied. . . . There is 
little to object to In Don John's repulsive scoundrelism; at most 
we may say that It Is strange motive power for a comedy. 

Coleridge says : — 

"Don John Is the mainspring of the plot of this play; but he is 
merely shown and then withdrawn." 

And Mabie: — 

BrlUIant, spirit charged with vivacity, and sparkling with wit; 
it is a master-piece of keen characterization, of flashing conver- 
sation, of striking contrasts of type, and of Intellectual energy, 
playing freely and buoyantly against a background of exquisite 
beauty. . . . The gayety and brilliancy of the great world as con- 
trasted with the little world of rural and provincial society are 
expressed with a confidence and consistency which Indicate that 
the poet must have known something of the court circle, and of 
the accomplished women who moved In It. 

Of Elizabeth's character the cipher gives this graphic 
picture : — 

Elizabeth, who thought to outcraft all the powers that be, 
suppressed all hints of her marriage, for no known object if it be 
not that her desire to sway Europe had some likelihood, thus, of 
coming to fulfilment. Many were her suitors, with whom she 
executed the figures of a dance, advancing, retreating, leading, 
or following In sweet sympathy to the music's call. But ever 
was there a dying fall in those strains — none might hear only she 

567 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

or my father — and the dancer's feet never led to Hymen's lofty 
altar thereafter. 

A fear seemed to haunt her mind that a king might suit the 
mounting ambitions of a people that began to seek a New At- 
lantis beyond the western seas. Some doubtless longed for a royal 
leader of the troops, when war's black eagles threatened the realm, 
which Elizabeth met in two ways — by showing a kingly spirit 
when subjects were admitted into the presence chamber, and 
by the most constant opposition to war, as well was known to 
her council. Many supposing miserly love of gold uppermost in 
mind and spirit, made but partial and cursory note of her natural 
propension, so to speak, or the bent of the disposition, for behind 
every other passion and vanity moving her, the fear of being 
deposed rankled and urged her to a policy not yet understood. 

The wars of Edward, called The Third, — but who might be 
named the first amongst heroes, — and of his bold son, known as 
Edward the Black Prince, of brave Henry Fifth, and her grand- 
sire Henry Seventh, as well as one of her father, his short strifes, 
were not yet out of memory of the people. Many pens kept all 
these fresh in their minds. She, as a grave physician, therefore, 
kept a finger on the wrist of the public, so, doubtless, found 
it the part of prudence to put the Princes, — my brother, the 
Earl of Essex, and myself — out of the sight of the people. 

Yet in course of time the Earl of Leicester, our subtle father, 
handled matters so that he came nearer to obtaining the crown 
for my brother than suited my tastes and fitness for learning. 
Stopping short of this Irreparable wrong, my father took but 
slight interest in the things he had been so hot upon, and the 
trouble regarding his wild projects was at a time much later — 
subsequent to the death of our father. 

Though constantly hemmed about, threatened, kept under sur- 
veillance, I have written this history In full in the Cipher, being 
fully persuaded, in my own mind and heart, that not only jesting 
Pilate, but the world ask: "What Is truth .'^" and when they read 
the hidden history of our times, and of that greatly renowned 
maiden-queen, Elizabeth, — It shall appear misplaced when you 
put my work, as you here shall find it, Into a form readily under- 
stood. 

Bacon realized that the question might be asked, Why he 
should employ a cipher in writing of events in Elizabeth's 
reign? He says: — 

568 



CIPHERS 

The reason is not far to seek; 't is this : the many spies employed 
by our mother, the constant watchful eyes she had upon us, mark- 
ing our going out and our coming in, our rising up and all our 
movements from the rising of the sun, to his rising upon the fol- 
lowing morning; not a moment when we could openly write and 
publish a true, accurate history of our times, since nought which 
Her Majesty disapproved could ever find a printer. 

Of Dudley's character he says : — 

It is, I doubt not, well remembered that he suffered imprison- 
ment because he was in a measure concerned in the attempt to 
enthrone Lady Jane Grey; yet, being at length released, his sun 
of prosperity rose high, for his union with Elizabeth, afterward 
queen, made him first in this kingdom, next to this royal spouse. 
But not being acknowledged such, publicly, nor sharing in her 
honors, my poor father was but a cipher, albeit standing where 
he should multiply the value of that one. 

For the space of nineteen or twenty years, my father, gay 
court-idol as he was, guarded his secret and basked in the sun- 
shine of royal favor. By degrees he was given title and style 
suiting so vain a mind better then would the weight of govern- 
ment, were that conferred on him. He was first made Master 
of the Horse; this gave him control of the stables, and gave him 
such place in the royal processions, as he very truly desired next 
Her Majesty; also, she conferred upon him the Order of the Garter, 
and divers other marks of favor, whilst to bear out their stage- 
play until their parts should be done. Her Majesty, most like 
some loud player, proclaimed Baron Dudley, Earl of Leicester, 
suitor to Mary Queen of Scots, and at all admonitory protests 
which the haried husband uttered, this wayward Queen went 
on more recklessly. 

Therefore we must marvel to see him later claim advantage of 
Her Majesty's bold mood to take another partner to his bosom, 
rightly divining that she would not show cause why such an 
union could not be fitly considered or consummated, but ven- 
turing not upon full confession thereof. However, Her Majesty 
dwelt not for long in ignoble inaction — the force that she gave 
to her angry denunciation affrighting the wits of this poor earl, 
until he was again turning over expedients to rid her of this rival. 
Suspicion again fell on the misguided man, of seeking to murder 
the partner of his joys, but Heaven brought his own doom sud- 
denly upon him. So doth this act end. 

569 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Considering the character of Elizabeth and Dudley as here 
set forth, much that might seem to us strange in the cipher 
story vanishes. Elizabeth is said to have taken pride in re- 
sembling her father, Henry VHI, whom history represents as 
having marked his reign by an exhibition of selfish passions, 
and the exercise of an imperious will. Having been thrown 
into the Tower in 1554, she escaped death by a hair's breadth, 
as a warrant for her immediate execution was sent to the gov- 
ernor of that bloody prison, which he would have promptly 
obeyed had not his friendship for her impelled him to apply to 
Mary for its confirmation. There this young and headstrong 
girl had the joy of finding Robert Dudley, a youthful friend, 
supposedly awaiting death. At this time the prisoners of state 
were permitted considerable liberty, though not long after, 
attention being drawn to the subject, it was abridged, and it 
would not be strange if Dudley, whose way with women is a 
subject of history, formed a liaison with this neglected girl. 
The conditions surrounding them were disheartening, and 
in themselves would tend to promote sympathetic relations. 
Nor is it strange, when Elizabeth in 1558 unexpectedly came 
to the throne, and Dudley was free from his marital bonds, 
that he should seek to advance his fortunes by a legal mar- 
riage with his former mistress, the so-called ceremony in the 
Tower being, perhaps, a mock affair. Such a popular clamor, 
however, was raised at the suspicious taking-off of his wife 
that a public marriage was out of the question : hence a secret 
one was prudent. 

Elizabeth, now a queen exercising almost unlimited power, 
was in an embarrassing position. To acknowledge openly her 
marriage with a subject as unpopular as Dudley might imperil 
her throne, which even her infatuation for him would not per- 
mit. In this dilemma there was but one course open for the 
present, which was to keep silence and let affairs drift. 

To pacify him she loaded him with favors, and kept him 
beside her, while he, enjoying almost regal power, contented 

570 



CIPHERS 

himself as best he could, watching for a change in the current 
of events which might eventually land him on higher ground, 
while the sometimes fickle but ever imperious Elizabeth 
happily pursued her course, smiling upon her many suitors, 
who pampered her vain soul with flattery, and guiding with 
silken reins, more or less successfully, the Car of Empire. If 
we take this view of the subject, which history warrants us in 
doing, the cipher story is not strange ; indeed, far less strange 
than many facts in orthodox history. 

This is what Bacon says of his purpose of continuing the 
anonymity of a portion of his works to another age, a purpose 
in accord with the plan disclosed in his philosophical works. 

Some might not trust a labor of years to oblivion, and hope 
that it may one day be summoned to take upon it, one happy 
sunlit morning, its own form; yet doth some thought uphold me, 
— so hopefully my heart doth cling to its last desire, I write on 
each "Resurgam," believing they shall, even like man, arise from 
the dust to rejoice again in newness of life. 

In "Henry VII," Bacon tells his decipherer: — 

If you leave searching out the keys and putting apart the ma- 
terials for the building of the palaces, you will be as a beggar 
going from door to door without a wall that can keep off tem- 
pestuous winds, or a roof to shelter you. Yet If you shall, as I 
direct, patiently collect the blocks of marble, which are already 
polished and prepared, — 

Like to a king's the shining walls shall rise, 
While high upon the lofty gleaming towers 
The golden roof may outbrave Illium's. 
No sound shall come of any instruments, 
As any iron tools, or ax, or hammer; 
As In the beauteous temple, as we read, 
In silent grandeur stone on stone was reared, 
So noiseless, so inaudible shall be 
The building of my glorious palaces. 
Let no conspiracy to make you leave 
For Idol Fancy's noble Truth's fair realm, 
A moment w'n you, but for this assay 
Break cressive love, throw off the filmy band! 
Nor in the mazes of a winding way 

S7^ 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Is risked a foot of him that would out-go 
In fleetness steps of winged Mercury; 
Then stray not in, or, ere one is aware, 
The entrance to the labyrinth 's quite lost — 
The unmarking eyes nor see nor read the signs 
Which of the strait and narrow way do make, 
A shining pathway to the golden mount. 

The purposes, like to a weather-cock that chang'd, 
Turning ere lazy eyes had noted it. 
Ne'er made one master of the Grecian art, — 

I eke in verse, sing of my one great theme; 
In verse we told the story of our birth. 
If one or other should on halting feet, 
Limp on apace, lenify easily. 
And oft undo parts never justly given 
So that at best this shall by iteration, 
Show its full use. 

In the "New Atlantis," published also in the same year, 
Bacon again recurs to the past. Of Marguerite of Valois, his 
early love, he says : — 

Even when I learned her perfidy, love did keep her like the 
angels in my thoughts half of the time — as to the other half 
she was devilish, and I myself was plunged into hell. This lasted 
during many years, and, not until four decades, or eight lustres 
of life were outlived, did I take any other to my sore heart. Then 
I married the woman who hath put Marguerite from my memory 
— rather, I should say, hath banished her portrait to the walls of 
memory, only, where It doth hang in the pure undimmed beauty 
of those early days — while her most lovely presence doth possess 
this entire mansion of heart and brain. 

He thus again addresses his decipherer: — 

Labour, I do entreate thee, with all diligence to draw forth the 
numerous rules for use in writing out these secret works. It is 
now the only desire that hath likelihood of grand fulfilment. . . . 

Unto God do we lift up our souls Imploring of Him aid, bless- 
ing, and light for the Illumination of the works we leave. 

Objectors to the cipher ask two principal questions; the 
first, Why did Bacon want to hide his identity behind a 

572 



CIPHERS 

cipher? the second, Why, since he described ciphers, was it 
not discovered that he used one in his books ? The first he so 
completely answers himself that we need not concern our- 
selves with it; the second is best answered by the question. 
Why is it that even now with the keys before them men do not 
study and apply the cipher sufficiently to discover whether it 
does or does not exist ? The reason is the difficulty of doing so. 
It requires trained eyes and the severest application; in fact, 
as much exacting labor as to learn to read Greek. But few so 
far have been willing to devote to its study the labor required 
to master it, and then endorse it. Prominently among these is 
Mr. W. H. Mallock, whose testimony alone should entitle it 
to serious consideration. We will quote him now not as a 
Baconian but as a student: — 

Of all the critical paradoxes that have ever been seriously ad- 
vocated, few have been received with such general and derisive 
indifference as that which declares Bacon to have been the au- 
thor of the dramas ascribed to Shakespeare, and which couples 
this declaration with another — more startling still — that these 
dramas are not dramas only, but are besides a series of writings 
in cipher, whose Inner meaning bears no relation whatever to the 
ostensible meaning as dramas, but which consists of memoranda 
or memoirs concerning Bacon himself, and secrets of Queen 
Elizabeth. The mere theory that Bacon was the real author of 
the plays, though the mass of Shakespeare's readers still set it 
down as an illusion, does not. Indeed, contain anything essentially 
shocking to common sense. On the contrary, it Is generally rec- 
ognized that on purely d priori grounds there Is less to shock 
common sense In the Idea that those wonderful compositions 
were the work of a scholar, a philosopher, a statesman, and a 
profound man of the world, than there Is in the Idea that they 
were the work of a notoriously Ill-educated actor, who seems to 
have found some difficulty In signing his own name.-^ 

Mr. Mallock could hardly dismiss the subject in this man- 
ner. He continued, as some others have, to study it more 
deeply. In 1903, over a year later, he wrote an interesting ar- 

^ Nineteenth Century, December, 1901. 

573 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

tide, in which he gave the results of his labor. ^ He had found 
by this time the difficulties which one who attempts to acquire 
proficiency in the decipherer's art is certain to encounter, but 
with the true spirit of research, these only nerved him to 
more effort. He says : — 

One of Mrs. Gallup's most remarkable contentions is that a 
Bacon cipher exists in the italic preface to Spenser's "Com- 
plaints," edition 1591. The printing of the preface is exception- 
ally fine, and Mrs. Gallup gave, in her book, an excellent photo- 
graphic facsimile of it. To this preface, moreover, she appended 
her own interpretation of it, deciphered letter by letter. Now, 
amongst the letters here used there are five the employment of 
which In two forms is so clear that no human being can doubt 
about it. We will confine our attention to these. They are the 
capital G'j-,of which two examples occur, six capital /'j, two capi- 
tal P'j, seventeen small p^s, and twenty-eight small w^s. The dif- 
ferences between the two forms are as marked as In the following 
equivalents: — 

G G, 73, TP,p\), VO w, 

We have here twenty-five letters in all, and, except in the 
cases of three small p^s, Mrs. Gallup's rendering, beyond any 
possibility of doubt, accords with the differences which exist 
between the two forms of each. That Is to say, she has, if her 
work be not genuine, at all events so constructed and manipu- 
lated a fictitious rendering that at fifty-two points, scattered 
over two small pages, it accurately fits In with corresponding 
peculiarities in the text. Let any of Mrs. Gallup's critics try to 
perform a similar feat, even on so small a scale as this, and they 
will realize something of the extraordinary labour and ingenuity 
which Mrs. Gallup must have expended on her work, if we sup- 
pose it to be a mere Imposture. The facts just mentioned give 
us some ground, at all events, for supposing that her work may 
possibly have some foundation in reality. 

This test, made by a man who at the outset was an utter 
skeptic, and his testimony to the validity of the cipher, as 
far as he had then proceeded, is the best proof in its favor 
that possibly could have been produced. But Mr. Mallock 

^ Pall Mall Magazine, 1903. 
574 



CIPHERS 

zealously continued his tests, and this is another of his ex- 
periments : — 

I selected at random an italic passage from the First Folio — 
Lady Macbeth's Epistle to her Husband; and got Mrs. Gallup to 
send me her rendering of it letter by letter. I then had the passage 
photographically enlarged from four different copies of the origi- 
nal. I marked the letters according to Mrs. Gallup's directions, 
thus separating them into what she alleges to be two alphabets; 
I compared each letter which she alleges to belong to one fount 
with the corresponding letter which she alleges to belong to the 
other, and endeavored to see how far there was any real differ- 
ence between them. The result of this examination, as stated 
by me In the "Nineteenth Century," was to show that such a 
difference certainly does exist in the case of almost two thirds 
of the letters, whilst. In the case of the rest, I myself failed to 
detect It, 

When, however, I wrote In the "Nineteenth Century," I had 
made my comparisons merely by juxtaposing the letters, and 
examining them side by side. Since then I have employed a more 
accurate method. Taking an enlargement of the passage, the 
letters of which are half an inch In height, I placed the sheet on 
a transparent glass desk, such as Is used by photographers for 
the purpose of retouching negatives, and carefully traced In red 
ink, with a drawing pen, the letters which Mrs. Gallup allocates 
to the A fount, filling In the outlines with a thin wash of red. I 
then placed each of these letters in order over the corresponding 
letters which she allocates to the B fount and made a tracing of 
the outlines of the latter in black ink, so that it Is seen at once 
how the outlines of the two forms differ. The results agree for 
the most part with, but here and there differ slightly from, the 
results of my previous examinations. I here reproduce my trac- 
ings of thirteen letters of the alphabet. They comprise those 
whose use is most frequent in English, and which would make 
up about two-thirds of an average English paragraph. Next to 
six of these letters, used In the First Folio, I have placed copies 
of the letters drawn by Bacon himself, as examples of bi-formed 
letters for use In a bl-literal cipher. 

The letters from the Folio, when magnified, as the reader will 
see, are very ragged. This, as a comparison of various copies 
shows, is due to irregularities In the Inking, and kindred causes; 
but, In spite of these obscuring accidents, the reader will see 

575 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

that the shape of the shaded letters — those allocated by Mrs. 
Gallup to the A fount, differ systematically from the outlined 
letters — those allocated by her to the B fount. In the case, 
moreover, of the letters in which Bacon's own drawings are 
given, it will be seen that the differences between the two forms 
occurring in the Folio are of precisely the same kind as the differ- 
ences in the drawings of Bacon. For instance, the "a" of the 
A fount in Bacon's drawing is hump-backed. So are the "a's" 
which Mrs. Gallup allocates to the same fount in the Folio. 
Again, the two forms of "m" and *'n" in Bacon's drawings are 
distinguished by the fact that the final curl in the B form sticks 
out rather than the final curl in the A form. The "m's" and 
"n's" in the Folio, as discriminated by Mrs. Gallup, differ in 
precisely the same way. A similar observation applies to the 
"e's" and "i's." 

The other letters, as drawn in two forms by Bacon, are in forms 
peculiar to manuscript, and are not comparable with printed 
letters at all. Of the Folio equivalents of these other letters, the 
tracings of which are here given, the "f's," "g's," "u's," "p's," 
"y's," and "w's," may be left to speak for themselves, but it 
may be well to call special attention to the "e's" and "h's." Th^ 
shaded "e's" A fount — are all more upright than the outlined 
"e's" — B fount; and the shaded "h's" are all narrower than 
those given in outline. I have given a number of examples of 
these letters in order to show that the differences are not fortu- 
itous. The remaining letters, especially the "b's," "d's," "o's," 
and "t's" present no differences in form that I myself have been 
yet able to discover; and certain differences which I once thought 
I had perceived disappeared under the ordeal of the double 
tracings. Such differences may exist — It rests with Mrs. Gallup 
to show us what they are. Meanwhile, speaking of the writer 
from a purely typographical point of view, we may say that her 
alleged "cipher" has a considerable basis In typographical facts, 
but that a large portion of the evidence that would be necessary 
to prove Its reality is thus far missing. 

There remains, then, the following question. Because this 
evidence Is missing, are we forced to conclude that it cannot 
possibly exist.'' In other words, does the fact that to the ordinary 
eye the forms of certain of the letters appear to be all the same, 
show that they may not possess some obscured and elusive differ- 
ences, such as the requirements of the cipher would demand, and 
which were intended to play a part In It.'' 

576 




im- 



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Tin! £"1 a^dia^^ft 'y &t>x^i 



ad. 







KJ»I 









u u 






CIPHERS 

One of the most persistent and inconclusive opponents of 
the cipher is Herbert Thurston, S.J., of whose contention Mr. 
Mallock thus kindly disposes: — 

I gave, in the "Nineteenth Century," from the Dutch edition 
— 1662 — of the "De Augmentis," an enlargement of the page 
in which Bacon explains his cipher by an example of a bi-formed 
alphabet, followed by a passage from Cicero into which the ci- 
pher is avowedly printed. Here the alphabet and passage are 
not reproduced, as in earlier editions, by means of a block-fac- 
simile of Bacon's own handwriting, but two alphabets of italic 
type are substituted; and I showed from this specimen how il- 
legible such a cipher may be, even in a case where we know cer- 
tainly that it exists — how easily the differences between some 
of the letters are obscured, how hard it is, in the case of some of 
them, to see where the diiferences lie, and how easily printers' 
errors creep into the text. Hence, I urged, if the cipher exists 
at all in such volumes as the First Folio, that much of it will be 
very difficult, and some of it impossible to read, is only what we 
shall have been led beforehand from the nature of the case to 
expect; and the cipher's existence is very far from being neces- 
sarily disproved by it. 

These facts and observations the reader may verify for himself, 
and form his own opinions with regard to them. But with regard 
to the last point — namely, the example of a bi-literal cipher, as 
it actually appears in the italics of the seventeenth century — I 
have something more to say; and this is something which will 
introduce us to another aspect of the question. I have mentioned 
that the credibility of Mrs. Gallup's cipher has been denied not 
only on the a posteriori ground that the letters of the volumes 
with which she deals are not really bi-formed in the manner 
which the cipher would require, but on a priori grounds also, 
which are likewise connected with typography. I will begin with 
a contention which has been put forward with the utmost con- 
fidence by a scholarly writer. Father H. Thurston, in The Month. 
Father Thurston makes much of the point, which no one in his 
senses can doubt, that the bi-formed alphabets, as Bacon himself 
designed them, were drawn with a pen, and in the early editions 
of his works were reproduced on a block in facsimile as pen draw- 
ings, and were not represented by printers' type at all. Hence, 
Father Thurston argued, it is perfectly evident that Bacon never 
entertained the remotest idea of his cipher being used elsewhere 

577 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

than in private manuscript; and that to impute to him even the 
bare idea that it might be used in print is an absurdity. He ac- 
cordingly went on to declare, in a letter written to myself, that 
on the page from the "De Augmentis" of 1662, which I repro- 
duced in the "Nineteenth Century," the two italic alphabets 
are merely the same alphabet duplicated; and he paid me the 
handsome compliment of asking whether the delusions of the 
Baconians could be wondered at, when an intelligent person like 
myself was so led away by their folly, as to persuade myself that 
there were differences in two alphabets which were obviously the 
same. 

Since Father Thurston expressed these views to me, I have 
had the page in question enlarged on a much greater scale. I 
have examined also four other editions — all of them printed in 
Holland, as was the one just mentioned. They are the editions 
of 1645, 1694, 1696, and 1730. The two last are merely reprints 
of the second. We need therefore consider the first and the second 
only, together with that just mentioned, of 1662. These, though 
they are all of the same minute size, have been set up separately, 
each in its special type. No one who compares carefully the pas- 
sage now in question, as it appears in these three editions, will be 
able to doubt for a moment that Bacon's illustration of his cipher 
is there reproduced in two separate italic alphabets. The letters 
are so small, that most of these must be studied with a magnify- 
ing glass before the precise differences between the two forms are 
visible, but the differences between certain of them are apparent 
to the naked eye; and these alone are enough to show that the 
deliberate intention of the printers was to employ two forms of 
type. This is specially apparent in the edition of 1694, ^^^ print- 
ing of which is beautiful — sharper and more delicate than that 
of the others. The delicate duality of the two forms of small "s" 
and *'x" may be specially noted. I am unable here to give an en- 
largement from this volume, but must content myself with falling 
back on my largest and latest reproduction of the corresponding 
page in the edition of 1662 — the edition in which Father Thurston 
declared that both alphabets were alike. I will deal here with two 
letters only — the "g's" and the "p's, " and I will exhibit them 
as they appear both in the alphabetical table, and in the passage 
from Cicero which Bacon, in his own handwriting, gave as an 
example of his cipher practically applied. I first give the letters as 
Bacon himself wrote them, and next to them I place their italic 
equivalents, reproduced from the edition of 1662. Then I give 

578 



^ cy -"^ '^.. o o 

EccK2^^4 Lcgatm, opp2ig72a^. 
\poiim u}ct^tc pit^^^^ pm\iti 



CIPHERS 

certain words from the Cicero passage as Bacon wrote them, in 
which his use of the different forms is evident; and I place above 
these the same words in printed itahcs, as the edition of 1662 
presents them to us. The differences between some of the other 
letters are as plain as those between the "g's" and "p's," and 
show plainly the intentional use of two forms though the printers 
have made many blunders. In the beautiful edition of 1694 the 
whole is much plainer. 

I do not consider this matter of much importance myself; but 
as a scholar like Father Thurston lays so much stress on his own 
contention, I have thought fit to call attention to and expose his 
error, as an example of the kind of arguments to which orthodox 
Shakespearians, of the most cultivated kind, will resort, in order 
to bring Baconian heretics to the stake. 

Mr. Mallock gives us a curious example of another bilit- 
eral cipher antedating Bacon's : — 

As I have said already, one of the most frequent of the a priori 
objections which critics have raised to Mrs. Gallup's theory rests 
on the alleged difficulty of printing it, and the extreme unlikeli- 
hood that the printers of Bacon's time would have had the means 
of executing so difficult a piece of work. Now, as far as the mere 
use of two founts of italic is concerned, this difficulty is altogether 
imaginery. A bi-literal cipher might be printed with perfect ease, 
and without the compositor being in any way admitted into the 
secret. 

And calling attention to Porta's book already mentioned, in 
which appears a curious cipher, he says that Bacon's device 
"was of a kind neither inapplicable nor even strange to the 
printing and to the printers of the time." 

Mr. Mallock's critical study of the blllteral cipher, 
should satisfy skeptics of Its existence in the "Shakespeare" 
Works. 

The internal evidence of Its truth, however, cannot fail to 
impress Itself upon the mind. A dominant note Is heard con- 
tinually, finding an unexpected echo In every theme ; varied, 
yet ever pathetically Insistent — the strange story of Bacon's 
birth. The world must not fail to hear of this secret for lack of 

579 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

repetition, however monotonous it may sound. It was a secret 
of vital import to a young and ambitious man, but one which 
to whisper abroad would mean death sure and swift ; and so 
it is repeated with what may seem undignified iteration. No 
fabricator of a plausible fiction would spring this Jack-in-the- 
box so continually upon a reader. Again some of the expres- 
sions in the cipher revelations regarding the literary work of 
their author might sound like vanity; but when we consider 
this man, conscious of his intellectual superiority to those 
about him, such expressions hardly trouble us; they become 
almost impersonal. 

We have given this extended review of Mr. Mallock's work 
because of its importance to our subject. It is almost our 
precise experience in studying the cipher. His example of 
magnifying the letters in the different fonts of type has re- 
cently been followed by Mrs. Fiske, whose sumptuous work 
contains the alphabets sufficiently enlarged to make many of 
their differences plain to ordinary vision. The author says in 
her Preface : — 

When Francis Bacon's "Cipher Story" was first brought to 
my attention, I spent much time in endeavoring to work out 
the cipher, but without success. Later, I was so fortunate as to 
meet Mrs. Gallup, and have had the privilege of receiving in- 
struction from her in deciphering. Believing that what I have 
learned will be interesting to many, I have endeavored to show 
in this book in as simple a manner as possible the laborious way 
in which the hidden message Is brought to light. 

In order to make this book helpful to those who wish to de- 
cipher the bi-llteral, I have also collected together examples from 
several books showing different Italic alphabets. All those books 
contain cipher messages, and all were printed In the different 
years, and in different alphabets. These Italic letters are the 
shapes and sizes used generally in the books of the sixteenth and 
seventeenth centuries to conceal the cipher messages. Besides 
these there are several sizes of Roman letters In facsimile which 
are also described.^ 

^ Gertrude Horsford Fisk, Studies in the Bi-Literal Cipher of Francis Bacon. 
Boston, 1913. 

580 



CIPHERS 

This book is an important contribution to cipher literature 
which promises to play a considerable part in the future con- 
sideration of the greatest of literary problems. Of course, 
when fully elucidated it will solve it beyond question ; though 
without it, as we have said before, the proofs of Bacon's 
authorship of the "Shakespeare" Works, which we have here 
presented, should be ample to satisfy an unprejudiced mind. 

Unfortunately for the biliteral cipher it was placed in the 
hands of a committee to examine and pass upon its validity. 
The work fell principally upon Mr. George C. Bompas, one 
well fitted for the undertaking, and of undoubted integrity, 
but who had strongly expressed his opinion against it. Mr. 
Bompas pursued his task amid other distracting affairs, and 
made an adverse report which was published. His death pre- 
vented a revision of his work, and it has been accepted by 
many Baconians as a correct statement of the case. The very 
conditions under which Mr. Bompas undertook his task were 
sure to result in failure. The writer began in the same manner. 
He had examined the two fonts of letters in the " De Aug- 
mentis," made by Bacon to illustrate his method, and ex- 
pected to find in the Folio the same, or approximately the 
same, marked differences which he found in Bacon's alphabets. 
When, however, he examined the First Folio, and endeavored 
to find, in the poems of Digges and others, the deciphered mes- 
sages which he was told they concealed, he was disappointed. 
He took a magnifying glass and studied the letters and was 
disgusted. He saw differences in a few letters, but he knew 
that the old printers sometimes used several fonts of type in 
their work ; that their ink was thicker at one time than at an- 
other, and their registering imperfect ; so he impatiently dropt 
the task. After reading the cipher revelations he gradually 
became convinced that they could not be fabrications, and 
wrote Mrs. Gallup stating that he could make nothing out of 
the cipher, and propounding various questions, some of which 
he now sees were hardly worthy of a reply. Mrs. Gallup, how- 

581 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

ever, answered them so frankly and lucidly, that he again took 
up the study of the cipher, and learned a number of important 
truths ; for instance, — there are numerous errors in the 
cipher as there are in the text; these errors require similar 
emendations ; an a font is sometimes found in the place of a ^ 
font letter, which is confusing ; words in the cipher are abbre- 
viated ; bad registering is another troublesome obstacle. The 
"cipher story" now compressed into a single volume was 
written at different periods during more than forty years of 
its author's life, and scattered through many volumes, there- 
fore could not always be printed in the same form of type ; 
besides, the author to avoid discovery sometimes thought it 
necessary to mystify a decipherer. Added to this we are doubt- 
ful if any man past middle age has a sufficiently keen vision to 
become a successful decipherer. To become expert requires 
keen sight, close application, as long practice as to learn 
Greek or Hebrew, and enthusiasm sufficient to preserve inter- 
est in the work. Why should we wonder, then, that Mr. Bom- 
pas failed in his desultory work.? Yet even Baconians, not 
being able to read the cipher offhand, or with a superficial 
study of it, cast it aside as unworthy of attention. After our 
experience with the biliteral cipher we frankly admit that 
there are a number of letters which we cannot yet properly 
place and never expect to; but though we know Mrs. Gallup 
only through a long-distance correspondence, we are con- 
vinced that, by years of enthusiastic study of her favorite 
subject, she has become sufficiently expert to read anything 
submitted to her which contains the biliteral cipher, however 
obscure it may be. The two tests to which we have subjected 
her, made as difficult as we could make them, we think war- 
rant us in this opinion. Had Mr. Bompas undertaken to ac- 
quire proficiency in a difficult language, he would never have 
expected to accomplish his purpose unaided by a competent 
teacher. Here is the crux of the matter. He should have had 
Mrs. Gallup to explain difficulties when encountered. In one 

582 



CIPHERS 

instance, Mr. Bompas speaks of the sequence of the introduc- 
tory poems, etc., varying in different copies of the First Folio. 
Each was a separate part of the cipher message, concluded 
with a signature of Bacon's name or title. The order of ar- 
rangement could make no difference. Mr. Bompas made his 
notes upon "Henry VH." A copy of Mrs. Gallup's entire 
work upon this book was sent to the Bacon Society, one to 
Mr. Mallock, and one to her London publishers. The work 
speaks for itself. 

A vast field of labor, however, still lies before students of the 
subject. A Bacon concordance similar to the truly monumen- 
tal work of Mary Cowden Clarke is a necessity. Students also 
should be supplied with separate plays, printed in the type of 
the original Folio, illustrated with examples to guide them in 
the work of deciphering. 

Mrs. Gallup seems alone qualified to supervise such an un- 
dertaking; indeed, she owes it to herself to make her work 
available to students and so plain that no one may reason- 
ably doubt it. To all the works in which the cipher occurs, 
the various guides should be given, and in those in which the 
biliteral is employed, the obscure letters should be noted, and 
enlarged examples reproduced to elucidate them. This might 
disarm opposition. 

THE "argenis" 

Before dismissing this branch of our subject, we venture to 
express the opinion that the cumulative evidence that Francis 
Bacon was the author of the "Shakespeare" Works is to 
reach its culmination in the biliteral cipher, for the disclosures 
made by it are constantly finding confirmation. Other works 
besides those attributed to Spenser, Peele, Greene, Marlowe, 
and Burton are being brought to light, and excellent evidence 
produced, that he was interested directly or indirectly in their 
authorship. Canon Begley has devoted himself to a study of 
several puzzling works of Bacon's day, his object being to 

S83 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

identify him with their authorship. His treatment of the "Arte 
of English Poesie," published anonymously in 1589, which 
has been accredited to both George and Richard Puttenham, 
neither of whom, he shows, could by any possibility have been 
its author, is a splendid piece of literary criticism.^ While we 
consider it worthy of all the space requisite to here set forth 
his acute arguments, space forbids. With respect, however, to 
John Barclay's *' Argenis," we deem an exposition of it neces- 
sary to the proper treatment of our subject, since it so re- 
markably confirms the secret of Bacon's birth as related in the 
cipher story. The "Argenis" was first published in Paris in 
1621 under the name of John Barclay, an author of some re- 
pute, who, it will be remembered, appears as one of the Coun- 
cillors in the Great Assizes at the head of which was Bacon. 
In 1629 it was published in an English translation by Sir 
Robert Le Grys, Knight. This work has been ably treated by 
Mr. Cunningham to whoseworkwe direct attention.- We shall 
here consider an earlier version which purports to have been 
translated from a Latin version of 1622 by " Kingsmill-Long." 
Ben Jonson, two years before, it is said, by request of King 
James, had entered for publication a translation of the " Ar- 
genis." This was in the busy year of the "Shakespeare" and 
Bacon Folios, which were driven through the press with fever- 
ish haste, for Bacon was anxious to get the works he had 
already written, and those he was writing, printed, as he felt 
that he was nearing his end. We know now that Jonson had a 
good deal to do with the Folio, and was helping Bacon with 
other work which may have delayed the publishing of his trans- 
lation of the " Argenis." What finally became of it we are not 
informed ; hence, writers upon the subject have supposed that 
it was destroyed. We do not agree with this opinion, and be- 
lieve that the edition of 1625 under the name of Kingsmill 
Long, was this translation. There are several reasons for this 

* Rev. Walter Begley, Bacon^s Nova Resuscitatio. London, 1905. 

* Granville C. Cunningham, Bacon's Secret Disclosed, etc. London, 191 1. 

584 



CIPHERS 

belief. First it would have been more than unwise for an 
unknown author, when a work was ready for the press by a 
man whose reputation as a Latin scholar was so well known 
as Jonson's, to translate and publish the same work in compe- 
tition with him. Then there are reasons why the translation of 
Jonson "stayed at the press." James, who was an over-timid 
man, after acquainting himself more fully with its character, 
may have reconsidered his approval of a work containing 
not only a dangerous state secret, but sentiments at variance 
with his own. Jonson himself, too, who was then at the 
height of his fame, may well have hesitated to publish it, loyal 
as he was to Bacon who undoubtedly had a hand in the mat- 
ter, for not only was he personally interested in it as a leading 
actor, but must have known Barclay, who had lived in London 
for ten years, being one of that little coterie of writers in 
which Bacon was so prominent. Did Jonson's work have a key 
to its contents ? It would seem probable, as such a key would 
have greatly helped the sale of the book, and at this time we 
may well suppose would have been agreeable to Bacon, and 
quite disagreeable to James and "Steenie." There was a call, 
however, for the "Argenis," and in 1625 it was published in 
folio under the name of "Kingsmill Long," without a key, 
which rendered it innocuous. This seems to be a fair explana- 
tion of the case, as we think will more clearly appear as we 
study the book. 

A key, however, was wanted, and in 1629, James and Bacon 
both being dead, the translation by Le Grys was published in 
quarto, this time with a brief key, sufficient, however, for any 
one who cared to use it. We are told by the translator that it 
was "commanded" by the King, and he apologizes for errors, 
"and would have reformed some things in it, if his Majesty 
had not so much hastened the publishing of it." We may well 
ask why Charles should thus interest himself in Barclay's 
book. Evidently it was because of the key. He was a young 
man, quite unlike his father, and knowing that the story of 

585 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Bacon's birth could do no harm at that time, and reminiscent 
of the harsh treatment of his grandmother, the Queen of 
Scots, by the "Virgin" Queen» might well have cherished an 
unholy delight in the revelation of her enemy's secret history, 
as not only a partial offset to that of his ancestress, but also a 
graceful offering to her manes. 

The second edition of the "Long" translation which we are 
considering was published in quarto, "Beautified with Pic- 
tures, Together with a Key Praefixed to unlock the whole 
story." This key goes into minute details, crowded into 
twenty-seven closely printed pages, and bears Bacon's famil- 
iar head-piece, the light and dark A. The title-page shows 
Henry IV of France (Poliarchus) and Marguerite of Valois 
(Argenis) standing upon opposite pedestals before pillars sup- 
porting an open pediment, in the center of which is seated a 
veiled female represented, after the delicate manner of the 
time, as enceinte, holding aloft in her right hand a heart, sym- 
bol of love. It is from our own copy of the edition of 1636 that 
we shall quote. First, however, let us say that the "Argenis" 
is to the modern reader a confusing tangle of events, impossi- 
ble to unravel without a key, though Cowper flatly contradicts 
us by saying that it is "free from all entanglement and confu- 
sion. The style, too, appears to me to be such as not to dishon- 
our Tacitus himself"; and Hallam, — "His object seems in 
great measure to have been the discussion of political ques- 
tions in feigned dialogue." In this Hallam is correct, but fails 
to comprehend the bearing of these "discussions" upon Eliza- 
bethan history. Had the "Argenis" been published in Eliza- 
beth's reign, those who had a hand in it would have had a free 
ride to Tyburn or the " Bloody Tower." 

In "The Epistle Dedicatorie" we are at once introduced to 
Marguerite of Valois and Henry IV in these words : — ■ 

When first I viewed the Faire and Princely Argenis, and her 
Royall Lover Poliarchus, in a curious Latine Habit, I was taken 
(as, I thinke, all other men are) both with admiration and delight; 

586 



CIPHERS 

there being both variete to please the minde, and Learning to 
embetter the Judgement. 

We now come to the key, and seek for what it discloses, a 
rather troublesome matter since its author cunningly dis- 
cusses pros and cons respecting the identity of the persons 
who are masquerading under fanciful Greek names, before he 
discloses it to us in this way : — 

That by Hyanisbe is not to be understood Queene Margaret, 
sister to Henry the third, and wife to Henry the fourth, from 
whom she was afterwards divorced; but Elizabeth, Queene of 
England. 

Thus we are plainly informed that by Hyanisbe is meant 
Queen Elizabeth. We shall find, however, as we pursue the 
narrative, that the author, Nicopompus, Intended to so mix 
events as to prevent the reader from understanding the story. 
This he himself tells us in these words : — 

I will circumvent them unawares, with such delightfull cir- 
cumstances, as even themselves shall be pleased, in being taxed 
under strange names. . . . 

I will compile some stately Fable, In manner of a Historic; 
in It, will I fold up strange events; and mingle together Armes, 
Marriages, Bloodshed, Mirth, with many and various successes. 
The Readers will be delighted with the vanities there shewne 
Incident to mortall men; and I shall have them more ready to 
reade me, when they shall not find me severe, or giving precepts. 
I will feed their minds with divers contemplations, and as It were, 
with a Map of places. Then will I with the shew of danger stirre 
uppittie, feare, and horrour; and by and by cheere up all doubts, 
and graciously allay the tempests. Whom I please, I will deliver, 
and whom I please, give up to the Fates. I know the disposition 
of our Countrel-men: because I seeme to tell them Tales, I shall 
have them all: they will love my Booke above any Stage-Play, 
or Spectacle on the Theatre. So first, bringing them In love with 
the potion, I will after put In wholsome hearbes: I will figure 
vices and vertues; and each of them shall have his reward. While 
they reade, while they are affected with anger or favour, as it 
were against strangers, they shall meet with themselves; and 
find in the glasse held before them, the shew and merit of their 

587 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

owne fame. It will perchance make them ashamed longer to play 
those parts upon the Stage of this life for which they must confesse 
themselves justly taxed in a fable. And that they may not say, 
they are traduced; no mans Character shall be simply set downe: 
I shall find many things to conceale them, which would not well 
agree with them, if they were made known. For, I, that bind 
not my self religiously to the writing of a true History, may take 
this liberty. So shall the vices, not the men, be struck; neither 
can any man take exceptions, for such as shal with a most shame- 
full confession discover his own naughtinesse. Besides, I will 
have here and there imaginary names to signifie several vices 
and vertues, so that he may be as much deceived, that would 
draw all in my writing, as he that would nothing, to the truth 
of any late or present passage of State. 

After reading this we shall be prepared to find the author 
introducing into his narrative, anomalies, anachronisms, con- 
fusing incidents, and cunning devices of all kinds, to prevent 
the uninitiated from separating truth from fiction. We have 
already learned from the key that Argenis means Margaret of 
Valols; Poliarchus, her consort, Henry IV, from whom she 
was divorced ; and Hyanisbe, Queen Elizabeth. We shall find 
as we proceed that Mauritania signifies England ; the Moors, 
Englishmen; Sicily, France; GaUia, Navarre; Radirobanes, 
Philip II; Hyempsal, Queen Elizabeth's son when at home; 
but when traveling abroad, incogiiito, Archombrotus ; and 
Syphax, "the Chief eman" in England whom she married. 
This is the description of England : — 

Now were they come within view, not onely of Africa,^ but also 
of Lixa^ the chiefe Citie of Mauritania. , . . The River, also 
called Lixa so gentle mingled it selfe with the unresisting Sea, 
that where both the Waters met, neither the noise nor the foame 
made any difference, but onely their colour. . . . The Citie was 
great; and by the traffique of Merchants, wealthie and populous. 
. . . On your right hand, as you passe from the shore to the Citie, 
was a Hill, the pleasantest in all Africa; and on the same, a faire 
Countrey House, which they called the Queenes Mannour. There, 

* Both Africa and Mauritania are used to signify England ; one it would seem 
in the sense of Great Britain, the other of England, as still used. 

588 



CIPHERS 

when she was oppressed with cares, would she usually sojourne; 
and after some refreshment, by solitude taken in turnes, to re- 
turne more chearfully to the trouble and broyle of business.^ 

We are told that Hyanisbe 

had succeeded her Brother Juha (Edward VI.) three and twentie 
yeeres agoe in the Kingdome: that before she was Queene, shee 
was married to one Syphax, the chiefe man in Mauritania, next to 
the King, who dying of a sicknesse, when King Juba dyed, had 
left her with childe: that the Queene not long after was delivered 
of a Sonne, whom she called Hyempsal, who, by the favour of the 
gods, had by his owne towardlinesse farre out-gone even the 
wishes of his Subjects : but that now in quest of honour amongst 
strangers, he was in private habit travelled, none, but the Queene, 
knowing into what Countrie.^ 

The introduction of Juba and the death of Syphax at the 
same time was intended to confuse the narrative. 

The defeat of the Armada is thus clearly related in the 
key: — 

The overthrow of Radirobanes in Africk, when he went to 
invade the Kingdome of Hyanisbe, doth note that notable over- 
throw of that huge and monstrous Spanish Armado; which be- 
ing disperst and scattered, he was never, after that, able to make 
any great and dangerous designe neither against France nor 
England. 

This is the account of the meeting of Argenis (Margaret of 
Valois) by Archombrotus (the Queen's son incognito). It is 
headed "Archombrotus falleth in love with Argenis": — 

The evening came on, and Archombrotus, as he was wont, 
went into the Kings garden. There, as hee was walking alone, 
among the rankes of Trees, he fell into remembrance of that night, 
when Poliarchus and hee were guests at Timoclea's house. Among 
other things, it came to his minde, how Poliarchus changed his 
lookes and speech, being questioned any thing of Argenis. For, 
when Archombrotus had drawne that to a signe of love, pres- 
ently, with the weight of ensuing thoughts, he forgets it; and so 
much the easier because he did not imagine it mutuall love, but 

* Argenis, p. 174. ' Ibid., p. 183. 

589 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

rather a youthfull amorousnesse in Pollarchus. — What could be 
thought more excellent than Argenis? Who had ever attained to 
such good qualities, so great parents, so many vertues? If shee 
had no prerogative of birth, but choice were to be made amongst 
all the Virgins, none before Argenis should be called to be Queene. 
Her wisdome, her modestie, her language did excell all of her 
Sexe: and her forme more than mortall. After this, Archombro- 
tus returnes to thinking of himselfe; neither did hee conjecture his 
owne birth unworthy of so great hopes; a ready fewell (no doubt) 
to his new fires: and this, at first, not as thinking to love, but as 
having in his head some idle, yet not unlikely fancies. By little 
and little hee was caught, and with a kinde of doubtfull pleasure 
held close to these Chimerae's; not knowing, that if hee would 
conquer and be free, hee had need of all his fortitude against 
these first motions of love: The dearer hee held Argenis, abated so 
much of his friendship, which had bound him to Poliarchus; first, 
assaulted by Envie; next, by Jealousie. So hee goes out of the 
Garden love-sicke, and captive, that a little before entred free 
and happie. It was an addition to his misery, to asswage this 
tempest by solitarinesse; hee supped alone: For, when in silence 
and solitude, nothing but love presented it selfe to his thoughts, 
he yeelded himselfe to those cares, which within few dayes did 
exceedingly torment the young Lover, with never till now experi- 
enced maladies.^ 

But Archombrotus is to be disappointed in his love, since 
Argenis is bound to Poliarchus who has been long absent. 
Anxious for his return she would persuade Archombrotus to 
go in search of him. She thus discusses her plan with her 
friend Selenissa (Catherine de Medici) : — 

I am not the first, O Selenissa, which have loved unfortunately. 
Why doe wee yeeld to fortune.? Death shall be the last remedie, 
which I can never be hinderd from. May I not goe my selfe, chang- 
ing my habit, in search of Poliarchus.? Alas, that I dare not be so 
bold, void of cunning, and having no face to frame a Lye. And 
perhaps also (but that is my least feare) I might dye in the 
labour of travell. Besides, thou couldst not follow me, nor staye 
behinde, without being called into danger, if I should slip away 
without the Kings privitie. Hearke, what I take to be the best 
course. Archombrotus, you know, is a most especiall friend of 

^ Argenis, p. 130 et seq. 



CIPHERS 

Pollarchus; hee defended him, in his absence to the King, and 
was the chiefe perswader, to call him backe: I shall easily per- 
swade him to seeke out Poliarchus, and bring him back to Sicily 
(France) : yet hee shall not know what the cause is, I desire to 
see him; somewhat else may be devised: Neither will our faction 
want the colour of truth, when both of us shall enforce his be- 
llefe. Selenissa praysed her wit: whether the cunning did please 
her, or being wearie, desired some respit from griefe to her selfe 
and Argenis, for the rest of the night: which Argenis having spent 
without sleepe, calls for her Chamberlaine; — and commanded 
him openly, to aske of Archombrotus, if that night had any thing 
eased him of his wounds (for hee had received many, but they 
were light;) for shee studied how to flatter him, having dangerous 
imployment for so deserving a Gentleman. 

Archombrotus, as if hee had been caught up into Heaven, and 
almost confident that hee was beloved, answered her Chamber- 
laine: If Meleander (Henry III) and Argenis were well, (for upon 
their safetie hee wholly depended) hee himselfe was well enough. 
O the mindes of men! for the most part fearing their delights, 
and loving their miseries. The Youngman, now full of joy, and 
ignorant of Argenis device, tyred his minde with valne thoughts, 
and stood by her Chamber doore, to present his service, as shee 
came out. Neither came shee unwelcome; and all the way talking 
with him, as shee was going to Meleander, yet said shee nothing 
of Poliarchus; for, as yet the business was not ripe, and secrecie 
was requisit for that discourse.^ 

The book ends with the return of Archombrotus, or Hyemp- 
sal, where he is received into the favor of Elizabeth his mother, 
and was present at the destruction of the Armada. In the 
cipher story Bacon tells us that he was present, which is not 
improbable, but from this point the author gives us an exhibi- 
tion of the wildest fancies. He had disclosed the most impor- 
tant incidents in Bacon's Hfe as related in the cipher story, — 
Elizabeth's marriage to "Syphax" (Leicester), "a man of 
most eminent qualitie," according to Le Grys ; the birth of a 
son ; his journey to France, where he fell in love with Mar- 
guerite of Valois, a passion which dominated his life. That 
Bacon had a hand in this there can be little doubt, for in 

' Argenis, p. 281 et seq. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

"The Epistle Dedicatorie," the hand of which is Long's, the 
voice is his. The book contains much imcensored history. 

Having placed the "Argenis" on file as an exhibit in the 
claim of the Queen's child reared by Lady Bacon, we offer 
one of equal importance in that of the child reared by Lady 
Devereux. 

ROBERT DEVEREUX, EARL OF ESSEX 

The layman whose faith has been shaped by the stately 
histories of the past will, of course, be disturbed at any at- 
tempt to show that the authority which he has so long revered 
may be deficient ; but the sources accessible to the historian of 
a century or so ago were meager, and since his day private and 
public correspondence, state papers and documentary mate- 
rials of many kinds have been drawn from their crypts and cof- 
fers, and published or docketed for use. So it comes about 
that the student, finding that much of the popular history of 
the past was based upon books written within the purlieus 
of despotic governments, reflecting the interests of the Court, 
and more or less inspired by those in power, seeks document- 
ary evidence with which to test its statements. 

Even now we have hardly escaped from such influences. It 
was the knowledge of this that prompted Thomas Wentworth 
Higginson to declare, in an address before the Massachusetts 
Historical Society, that our histories would have to be re- 
written; indeed, a book has been thought necessary to guide 
us in distinguishing between false and true historic evidence, 
though we think it a futile work, since a critical judgment 
and not a rule must ultimately determine the question. The 
cipher story of the execution of Essex prompts us to exam- 
ine Camden's and Howell's accounts of that tragic event, to 
ascertain, if possible, whether there is anything in them to 
warrant it. 

But first let us make a brief study of his life preceding that 
event. The date of his birth is said to have been November 

592 



1% 










ROBERT DEVEREUX, (ESSEX) 

From Naunton's Fragmenta Regalia. 

The added hat accentuated the resemblance to Dudley 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

lo, 1567, at Netherwood, Herefordshire, but the historian of 
the Devereux family says : — 

Ahhough I have followed the general report of former writers 
in making Netherwood the birthplace of Robert Earl of Essex, 
I must observe that it is more than doubtful, for the register of 
Thornbury, in which Netherwood is situated, makes no men- 
tion of the fact.^ 

At Chartley where the family residence was situated, all the 
children of Sir Walter Devereux are registered except Robert. 
We are further informed by Sir Henry Wotton, who was con- 
versant with the life of the family, that Sir Walter did not 
regard him as a father would naturally regard an elder son, 
but " died with a very cold conceit of him ; some say through 
the affection to his second son, Walter." ^ In the cipher we are 
told that Robert was named for his father, Robert Dudley. 
As it was more fitting that the head of a house should bestow 
his name upon the eldest son, who was to succeed him, the 
light that Wotton throws upon Walter Devereux's treatment 
of Robert suggests the question, Was Robert really his son, 
and may not Walter have really been his eldest son ? If it is 
objected, that if the cipher is true it shows that Dudley be- 
stowed his name upon Essex, though he was his second son ; 
the reply to this is, that the question of legitimacy could not be 
successfully raised in the case of Essex, while it might be in 
that of Francis Bacon, whose constant asseveration that he 
was born "in holy wedlock" shows that he was sensitive upon 
that point, as he possibly had reason to be. 

In August, 1575, Elizabeth made a visit to Lady Devereux, 
young Robert being then eight years of age. Sir Walter, grasp- 
ing and avaricious, was then absent, and importuning the 
Queen for large grants of land. From there she wrote him a 
letter in which occur these pregnant words, "The search of 

^ Walter Bourchier Devereux, Lives and Letters of the Devereux Earls of Essex, 
vol. I, p. 8. London, 1853. 

2 The Characters of Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex, and George Filliers, Duke 
of Buckingham, p. 21. Lee Priory, 1814. 

594 







ROBERT DUDLEY, (LEICESTER) 

From Naunton's Fragmenta Regalia. 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

your honour with the danger of your breath hath not been be- 
stowed on so ungrateful a prince, that will not both consider 
the one and reward the other." What could she mean by the 
danger of his breath if he were not the repository of some great 
secret ? 

We are told that her interest in him was so great that she 
granted him almost the entire County of Antrim, though she 
shrewdly made him a loan of ten thousand pounds at ten per 
cent for improvements, which proved to be a good curb to 
control him. But this did not satisfy his needs, for six months 
later, February 5, 1576, he wrote in this imperative manner, 
"But Her Majesty is to resolve for me quickly for I am come 
to that pass as my land being entangled to her no man will 
give me credit for any money." Elizabeth, however, was re- 
lieved of him a few months later, for, says Camden, "he re- 
turned into England, where openly threatening Leicester 
... he was . . . by a peculiar Court-mystery of wound- 
ing and over-throwing men by Honours, sent back into Ireland 
with the insignificant Title of Earl Marshall of Ireland." On 
arrival he was taken suddenly ill, and died, not without sus- 
picion of poison. "The suspicion was increased by Leicester's 
presently putting away Douglass Sheffield," ^ by whom he 
had a son, and secretly marrying the widow of Essex. 

The first recorded presentation of young Robert Essex to 
the Queen was when he was ten years of age, the same age at 
which Francis Bacon was first introduced to her. On that 
memorable occasion, it will be remembered, when the boy was 
asked his age, he replied, "Two years younger than Your 
Majesty's happy reign," greatly to the delight of the Queen. 
The bearing of the young eagle, Essex, was quite different, for, 
when she impulsively attempted to kiss him, he drew back and 
rejected the proffered favor. 

Both these boys had been trained by the same tutor, Whit- 
gift, but the one was as engaging as Elizabeth in her happy 

^ Camden, Elizabeth, p. zij et seq. 



CIPHERS 

moods, and the other as imperious as she in her less propitious 
ones. When at Cambridge he seems to have been under strict 
instructors, for he complained to Burghley, his guardian, of 
the slenderness of his wardrobe, which was "scantily sup- 
plied." When presented at Court by Leicester, with whom 
he was a greater favorite than Francis, the Queen showed a 
remarkable attachment to him, and bestowed greater favors 
upon him than upon Ralegh, which created a lifelong enmity 
between the two young men. The bravery, rashness, and 
kingly bearing of Essex appealed to Elizabeth, and aroused in 
her that motherly instinct so common to the feminine heart, 
making her constantly solicitous for his health and safety. 
As wilful and capricious as herself, she bore his extravagant 
humors with strange patience, keeping him by her and enter- 
taining him with cards and games in the little circle of her 
chosen favorites. On one occasion she gave Blount, one of her 
courtiers, a favor to wear upon his arm, which, being observed 
by Essex, incited his displeasure which ended in a duel. On 
another occasion he boldly accused her of insulting a friend to 
please Ralegh, and left her in anger. The next day he was 
about leaving the country when she sent Carey to pacify him, 
which, with difficulty, he succeeded in accomplishing. 

When in one of his fits of temper he turned his back upon 
the Queen, she gave him a blow upon the ear which caused him 
so far to forget himself as to clasp his hand upon his sword, an 
act which she ever remembered. After the execution of Mary 
Queen of Scots, he was so rash as to write James to aid him in 
getting Davison, whom she had unjustly imprisoned in the 
tower, restored to favor. No son in the line of succession could 
have carried affairs with a higher hand, and writers have often 
spoken of the Queen's patient treatment of him as that of a 
mother toward a headstrong but beloved son. His house be- 
came a center of correspondence with foreign courts, which 
made him obnoxious to the Cecils, and paved the way to 
his final downfall. So reckless of consequences was he, that 

597 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

on one occasion, Elizabeth exclaimed: "By God's death! it 
were fitting some one should take him down, and teach 
him better manners, or there were no rule with him.'* This 
brief glimpse of Essex will make plainer the reason of his 
ruin. 

We realize that it is likely to jar one, who has adjusted him- 
self to a certain historic perspective, to be told that he has been 
regarding things from a wholly wrong angle. To learn, for 
instance, from the cipher story, that Francis Bacon and 
Robert Essex were the sons of Elizabeth Tudor and Robert 
Dudley, sounds strangely enough, though we are prepared 
to believe from evidence that has come down to us that she 
had children by Dudley. Of course it may be said that if Sir 
Nicholas Bacon, Pembroke, Burghley, and Cecil knew who 
these children were, and if the story is true they certainly must 
have known, it is remarkable that the secret did not leak out. 
The answer to this is evident. It was a secret of state which 
they were bound to hold sacred by every dictate of self-inter- 
est. That it did leak out we know, for several persons were 
punished for discussing it, probably many more than we know. 
The two to whom the children most naturally would have been 
entrusted were Lady Bacon and the wife of Walter Devereux, 
two of Elizabeth's close friends. This friendship we know with 
the one was never broken, though it subsequently was with 
the other. At Walter Devereux's death, Burghley, whose wife 
was the sister of Lady Bacon, became the guardian, and later, 
Dudley, the titular stepfather of Essex. These are two points 
not unworthy of notice. 

But it will be said that when Essex was on trial, and his 
brother occupied the anomalous position of prosecuting him in 
behalf of the Crown for the crime of treason, would not Essex, 
brave and bold as he was, have been likely to confound his 
judges with the declaration that he was the Queen's son, and 
his brother, the rightful heir to the throne, his prosecutor? 
This is as strong as this objection can be stated. 

598 



CIPHERS 

The reply Is, that at the trial he had no witness to whom to 
appeal. Sir Nicholas Bacon, Pembroke, and Burghley, the 
three to whom he could have appealed as witnesses In his 
favor, were dead, and Bacon says the evidence of Elizabeth's 
secret marriage had been destroyed by her long before. He 
had not the least chance of a favorable hearing. The Queen 
was old ; his arch enemy, Robert Cecil, was then all-powerful ; 
Indeed, the announcement of his birth would only have has- 
tened his ruin ; besides, he held the Queen's ring, if we are to 
believe the tradition, which would probably secure his pardon; 
but were this wanting, had she not shown so much affection 
for him that It must have seemed certain that she would 
exercise clemency In his behalf.^ There can be no doubt that 
he so believed. 

But It will be said, granting this, when he reached the scaf- 
fold, would he not at the last moment have made the an- 
nouncement of his relation to the Queen, or, before that 
event, have communicated it to his spiritual adviser.? This 
would seem likely. But what were the conditions surrounding 
him from the close of his trial to his execution .? Would not the 
crafty Cecil, "the Fox," be sure to prevent any declaration 
from him becoming public, for If Essex were permitted to 
live It might be fatal to him. He was already plotting for the 
succession of James, which, if known by the Queen, though 
she might be thinking of it herself, would have caused his head 
to "hop" from his shoulders, to use one of her striking expres- 
sions, for though this Imperious woman could be influenced 
by an appeal to her fears or passions, she could brook no inter- 
ference of a subject in the question of the succession. Cecil 
was at the crisis of a dangerous game, and Essex had small 
chance of being heard, once the door of his dungeon was 
closed upon him. The Queen in the mean time, we are told by 
Camden, "wavered in her Mind concerning him — and she 
sent her command by Sir Ed Gary that he should not be exe- 
cuted." This would never do; "His Life would be the Queen's 

599 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

destruction" ; and "shortly after she sent a fresh Command by 
Darcy that he should be put to death." 

On the morning of the 25th of February, the execution took 
place. This is the simple story we are told by Camden, but 
how the warrant was obtained is not mentioned. The cipher 
story informs us that during the preceding night his eyes, at 
the instigation of Cecil, were destroyed by one of those mon- 
sters who haunted the prisons ready to commit any atrocity 
demanded of them. While we know from the history of Henry 
VI, Richard II, and others, that similar horrors occurred in 
these infernal dungeons where cruel men immured their vic- 
tims, and that Cecil may have been capable of sanctioning 
such a crime, we are impelled to impatiently exclaim, with our 
Stratfordian friends, Impossible ! If the eyes of Essex had been 
destroyed it would have appeared at the execution, of which 
we shall see, according to Camden, there were witnesses. 

The question for us to consider, if the story of the royal 
parentage of Essex were true, is. Would he have been given by 
Cecil opportunity to make it public, and had he suffered muti- 
lation as described, could it have been concealed ? To ascer- 
tain this we must know whether the conditions surrounding 
him between his condemnation and death would have per- 
mitted such concealment and mutilation ? To do this we must 
go afield, outside of the formal parterres of history, for such 
stray scraps of evidence as we may find, and bring them to- 
gether, which, strangely enough, no one has hitherto thought 
it worth while to essay; for Camden, complaisant old chron- 
icler of royalty, has given a circumstantial account of the 
whole aff^air, which carries the inference that he was an eye- 
witness of the execution. When critically examined, however, 
we find that he is very careful to state that he was present at 
the trial, but avoids saying that he was at the execution, 
which, had he been, he certainly would have done. Camden's 
account after the commitment of Essex to the Tower is pre- 
cisely what authority would have sanctioned. First he states 

600 



CIPHERS 

that Essex " desired that he might suffer privately within the 
tower." In his account of the execution, however, he states 
that "Thomas Mountford and Wilham Barlow, Doctors of 
Divinity, with Ashton, the Minister of the Church, were sent 
unto him early in the morning to administer Christian Con- 
solation unto his Soul"; and that seven noblemen and several 
aldermen and knights were present, the noblemen sitting 
"near unto" the scaffold. Ralegh Is said also to have "beheld 
his Execution out of the Armoury." ^ 

That the greatest pains were taken by Cecil to make It 
appear that Essex insisted upon having his execution take 
place privately Is evident. Barlow, one of the discredited 
transmitters of the story of his last hours, loudly proclaimed 
that it was private at the Earl's request, "Lest the acclama- 
tions of the citizens should hove him up." ^ 

Oldys Is responsible for publishing the absurd story that 
Essex told " the Queen that her condition was as crooked as 
her carcase." ^ Says Lingard, "Many believed that this was 
the real cause of his execution within the Tower." This story, 
coupled with his alleged request, was a convenient method 
of extending this belief; indeed, frequent evidences appear of 
Cecil's anxiety to Impress the public with the belief that the 
private execution of Essex was granted him as a favor. He 
further says : "There Is indeed something suspicious in the ear- 
nestness with which Cecil Instructs Winwood to declare in the 
French Court, that Essex had petitioned to die in private." ^ 

To justify himself, Cecil called particular attention to what 
he described as "the written confession on four sheets of paper 
in his own hand." If such a holographic confession ever ex- 
isted, it would have been preserved most carefully we may 
be sure, but we have only Cecil's word for it. 

^ Camden, The History of Elizabeth, etc., p. 621 et seq. 
^ Birch, vol. 11, p. 482. 

^ William Oldys, The Life of Sir Walter Ralegh, vol. I, p. 329. London, 
1829. 

* Lingard, vol. vi, p. 619. 

601 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Referring to the privacy of the execution, Jardine remarks 
that it was : — 

Inconsistent with his declaration at his trial; but the fact Is 
rendered suspicious by the eagerness of the Council to declare It. 
Then Cecil In his letter to Winwood, having already directed the 
ambassador respecting the report he was to make of the Earl's 
conduct to the French King, adds in a postscript, "You must 
understand that he was an exceeding earnest suitor to be exe- 
cuted privately In the Tower." It Is expressly mentioned In all 
the dispatches, and forms a distinct article in the paper signed 
by the three clergymen. The King of France, however, appears 
not to have believed the story, and to have had some Informa- 
tion on the subject previously, for on WInwood's relating to him 
the circumstances of the confession of the Earl, and stating his 
wish for a private execution, the King interrupted him, saying, 
"Nay rather the clean contrary, for he desired nothing more 
than to die In public." ^ 

The secrecy with which the execution was conducted, and 
the methods resorted to in order to prevent him from talking, 
attracted attention, and the ''divines" were sharply criticized, 
being called "the mere tools of the Government." Ashton, 
who seems to have been appointed as a sort of death-watch to 
him, is spoken of as "base, fearful and mercenary." It is to 
these men that we are indebted for all that was made public 
concerning his last hours. The so-called confession, we are 
told, — 

provided plentiful materials for Proclamations, Sermons and 
Declarations. The auditors of what he said on the scaffold con- 
sisted of such, and so many persons only, as the lieutenant had 
instructions to admit within the gates; and that to all intents 
and purposes an audience picked and prepared by the Privy 
Council.^ 

So much were the clerical attendants of Essex discredited, 
that Ralegh when he went to the Tower was cautioned not to 

^ David Jardine, Esq., Criminal Trials, vol. I, p. 369 et seq. Boston, 1832. 
Cf. Sir Ralph Winwood, Knight, Memorials oj Affairs of State, etc., vol. 11, p. 
372. London, 1725. 

2 Ibid., p. 371. 

602 



CIPHERS 

have such "divines" about him. Of his appearance at the 
execution, the original account says : — 

All the tyme of his beinge on the Scaffold the Erie never uttered 
worldlie thought, takeing no notice of anie person more than 
another.^ 

Llngard says : — 

It was remarked that he never mentioned his wife or children 
or friends.^ 

He had said at the close of his trial, — 

Before his death he would make somethinge knowen, that 
should be acceptable to her Majestie in point of State.^ 

But, says Jardlne : — 

The most pressing instructions had been previously given to 
the officers and divines to prevent him from speaking of the na- 
ture of his affairs, or of his associates, and to confine him to a 
simple declaration of sorrow for his treason/ 

Essex, after sentence had been pronounced against him, 
petitioned 

the Lord Highe Steward that he might have his owne preacher; 
it was answeared that it was not so convenient for him at that 
tyme to have his owne Chaplein as another. 

His reply was : — 

Yf a man in sicknes would not willinglie commit his bodie to 
an unknowne phisition, he hoped it would not be thought but 
a reasonable request for him at that tyme to have a preacher 
which hath been acquainted with his conscience. 

Finally, however, Ashton, who is said to have been the 
preacher he desired, and the two others we have mentioned, 
were assigned him. These men subsequently furnished Cecil a 
convenient channel by which to reach the public ear. Particu- 

* Stephen, State Trials, vol. in, p. 87. 
^ Lingard, vol. vi, p. 620. 

^ H. L. Stephen, State Trials, vol. iii, p. 79. London, 1902. 

* Jardine, p. 374. 

603 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

larly well did Barlow, the ablest of the trio, serve him, 
for — 

The Sunday after Essex's death, he preached at St. Paul's Cross, 
following Cecil's instructions very precisely in publishing Essex's 
confession. He subsequently received abundant preferment, 
culminating in the bishoprie, first of Rochester and then of 
Lincoln.^ 

We may well ask why was Cecil so solicitous to make the 
world believe that a private execution was granted Essex at his 
own request, and why so anxious to prevent him from " speak- 
ing of the nature of his affairs," and to so "precisely" instruct 
his pliant agents what to deal out to the public? The account 
given of the execution Is certainly "precise." We have a pa- 
thetic acknowledgment from the scaffold af the victim's sins, 
and of the justice of his punishment ; indeed, the tragedy Is so 
well staged that one can hardly doubt Its truth ; and yet, it Is 
not Improbable that It Is all a fiction made to fit the occasion 
by Cecil, Barlow, and Ashton. If there was nothing to conceal, 
no secrecy was necessary. There was nothing of the kind when 
Ralegh went to the block, nor when the companions of Essex 
followed him. Why all this effort at secrecy in one instance, 
and publicity In another .f* No wonder It excited suspicion. 

We have seen that Essex before death Intended to make 
something known of public importance; what was this, and 
why did he not disclose it to his "spiritual" confidant? The 
declaration must have excited curiosity enough for Ashton to 
be questioned with regard to It, and It seems that he was. We 
have a letter from a correspondent of Anthony Bacon, dated 
May 30, 1601, which Is suggestive. The writer appears to have 
known Ashton, and to have drawn from him certain admis- 
sions. The Italics are in the original. He describes him as "a 
man base ^fearful, and mercenary^ but such a one as hy formal 
show of zeal, had gotten a good opinion of the earl, who that 
way, being himself most religious, might easily be deceived." 

^ H. L. Stephen, State Trials, vol. iii, p. 81. London, 1902. 
604 



CIPHERS 

In the account given to the public, Ashton says that Essex first 
told him something which he declared he did not believe. The 
writer of the letter to Anthony informs us that when Essex 
told his story, Ashton retorted, "Your end was an ambitious 
seeking of the crown." What could Essex say to Ashton that 
could possibly elicit from him an expression of disbelief, and 
the opinion that It was an ambitious seeking of the crown ? 
This appears to have been discussed, for Spedding says that 
"his change in what he was to disclose was Imputed to the 
Influence of Mr. Ashton, a Puritan preacher who attended the 
Earl In the Tower." 

The writer of the letter describes the violent terms which 
Ashton professed to apply to the helpless man, "words of gall 
and bitterness," and says: — 

The Earl was much amazed with this style, his expectations 
being so exceedingly deceiv'd as looking rather in his case for a 
comforting than so bitter and slanderous accuser, and after a 
sad and silent pause answered him: "Mr. Ashton, you have laid 
grievous things to my charge of .which if I could not with truth 
free and clear myself, I might justly be holden one of the most 
unworthy creatures on earth." 

How foreign to this are the words now put into the Earl's 
mouth, that his object was to "procure access to her majesty, 
with whom I assured myself to have had that gracious hearing, 
that might have tended to the Infinite happiness of this State, 
both In removing evil instruments from about her person, and 
in settling the succession for the crown," which, Ashton says, 
was " by act of parliament of the King of Scotland, as the true 
and Immediate heir after her Majesty of this Kingdom." ^ 
This, Ashton claims, being a "great matter," gave him the 
opportunity of bringing in Cecil, the Lord Admiral, the Lord 
Keeper, and Treasurer, the bitter enemies of Essex, to hear his 
" confession." The introduction of the succession of the Scotch 

^ This letter to Anthony Bacon may be found in full in Camden's Elizabeth, 
Hearn's Notes, pp. 957-61. 

60s 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

James was no doubt inspired by Cecil to divert attention from 
himself, and seems to have served his purpose, though it 
makes his infamy still blacker, as he was sending a fellow being 
to death for what he himself was doing for a prospective re- 
ward, which in due time was paid in full. It is doubtful if the 
Queen's pardon would have saved Essex after the death- 
warrant was signed. He was in the power of enemies, resolved 
upon his destruction, not the least of whom was the Lord 
Admiral, Nottingham, who, after the death of Essex, in a let- 
ter to Montjoy describing the "confession," said: — 

He even charged his Sister with sharing his treason, and spared 
not to say something of her affection of you. Would your Lord- 
ship have thought this weakness and this unnaturalness in the 



man: 



? 1 



Montjoy was one of the bosom friends of Essex, and in love 
with his sister. His star also was foreseen to be in the ascend- 
ant ; hence the mean insinuations of Nottingham, who was so 
instrumental in the death of Essex, were intended to mitigate 
the effect of his doings upon Montjoy, the bosom friend of the 
unfortunate Earl. Nottingham's harsh and cruel character 
renders his evidence of little moment. He had served under 
Essex in the Cadiz expedition, and they had afterwards quar- 
reled. It was chiefly by Nottingham's persuasion and influ- 
ence, says Davison, Elizabeth's conscientious but unfortunate 
Secretary of State, that Elizabeth signed the death-warrant of 
the Queen of Scots. 

Of the confession Spedding says this, which throws light 
upon the manner in which it was prepared for the public 
palate : — 

The discretion of the Queen (it would have been better to have 
said Cecil and his confederates) obliged her to leave a portion 
of the story half told, and some of the most important confes- 
sions unpublished, for the narrative could not be so managed as not 
to involve allusions to matters of which proofs could not he pro- 

^ Tanner MSS. 76, Fol. 22. 
606 



CIPHERS 

duced.^ Of these suppressed depositions some are lost, probably 
beyond recovery, among them the four sheets of confession made 
by Essex himself.^ 

Vague mention is made of the "Confessions of Irish servants 
and retainers . . . that Essex had discussed the probability of 
his becoming King of England." But how could a mere sub- 
ject without royal blood think for a moment of such a thing? 
Certainly Essex, who was a brave and able man, versed in af- 
fairs of state, could never have discussed such a question, un- 
less he was conscious of having some right to the succession. 
Rash as he undoubtedly was, he was not so rash as to do that. 
The whole matter relating to the treason of Essex is con- 
fused and open to grave differences of opinion. Bruce, the 
editor of the " Correspondence " of Cecil with the Scotch King, 
Is wholly In sympathy with Cecil. One, however, who Is free 
from the social and hereditary influences which colored the 
view of Bruce, Is likely to take a different view of the evidence. 
Two vital points are submitted to us to sustain, both Involving 
the charge of treason, and had these not existed, it seems 
doubtful if his enemies, powerful as they were, could have con- 
victed him; In fact, Bruce admits that "the criminal facts of 
which Essex was ultimately convicted, the treasonable con- 
ferences at Drury House, and the consequent London out- 
break — to which the depositions were principally applied — 
constituted but a very small portion of the plot." But even 
Mr. Bruce does not give us anything else which Is tangible, 
and satisfies himself by saying of these assumed facts, "They 
did not come In question, legally, at his trial, and the little 
Information we find respecting them in the proceedings — Is 
altogether unsatlsfactoiy, and Inconclusive. What there ap- 
peared In reference to them rather slipped out than was made 
known intentionally.^^ He concludes, however, that this unused 

^ Does not this accord with Bacon's declaration relative to proofs which he 
tells us were destroyed, that he and Essex were children of the Queen? (The 
italics are ours.) 

^ Spedding, Letters and Life, vol. ii, p. 325. 

607 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

evidence "was purposely kept back because it implicated 
persons not before the court." There seem, then, to be left but 
two points of evidence sufficiently vital to bring him within the 
scope of the Act making it treasonable to discuss the succes- 
sion to the throne of England of one, not the legitimate off- 
spring of the reigning monarch, and Cecil's noisy reply to 
Essex at the trial, "I have said that the King of Spain is a 
competitor of the Crown of England, and that the King of 
Scots is a competitor, and my Lord of Essex is a competitor^ for 
he wotdd call a parliament, and so be king himself.^' ^ 

These two points, conspiring to place another upon the 
throne, or himself, were treasonable acts, and either one fur- 
nished a sufficient reason for his legal condemnation. As to the 
first, not a single letter is in existence, nor is there any valid 
evidence in the vague confessions of Southampton and others 
associated with him that Essex ever conspired to place James 
VI upon the throne. Of course he was fully aware of the politi- 
cal exigencies of the time, and realized that Cecil was vitally 
interested in the Scotch succession upon which alone his reten- 
tion of power could rest. In political circles there was more or 
less coquetting with James by Montjoy, Southampton, Davis, 
and others of the Essex party, and perhaps by Anthony Bacon, 
his able secretary, in order to counteract the efforts of Cecil 
which Essex himself must have been anxious to accomplish; 
but the declaration of Cecil that he was scheming for his own 
advancement to the throne utterly invalidates the charge that 
he was seeking it for James, and it may properly be dismissed 
from consideration. As for his own advancement, as we have 
already said, it would have been sheer madness for a simple 
subject in the position occupied by Essex to think of such a 
thing. If he did, he must have thought that he possessed some 

' John Bruce, Esq., F.S.A., Correspondence of King James VI of Scotland, 
etc., pp. xvii et seq., xxxiii. London, l86i. 

In these letters names are not mentioned but numbers are employed. We 
have, however, the key to them. Thus O was Northumberland; 3 Howard; 10 
Cecil; 24 the Queen; 30 James, etc. 

608 



CIPHERS 

moral or colorably legal claim to it. Think of a mere subject 
addressing the old Queen in this strange fashion — the letter is 
dated Ardbracken, August 30, 1599: — 

To the Queen, From a Mind delighting in sorrow, from Spirits 
wasted with passion, from a heart torn in pieces with care and 
travail, from a man that hates himself and all things else that 
keep him alive. It is your rebel's pride and successes must give 
me leave to reason myself out of this hateful prison, out of my 
loathed body.^ 

This was from a young man, gallant, self-reliant, and am- 
bitious. Was this wholly inspired by aversion to the command 
of the Irish expedition? 

Bruce dilates upon "a little black taffeta bag," which Essex 
always wore about him, and which he frankly told the officer 
who stripped him naked, contained about a quarter of a sheet 
of paper, and that this, "a book of his troubles," and papers in 
two small iron chests, he burnt in the presence of his wife and 
certain friends.^ It would be interesting to know what the 
paper in this little taffeta bag and "the book of his troubles" 
contained. What troubles could this young man have, who, if 
we accept the testimony of his friends, was of a studious and 
joyous nature, to put down in a book which he so carefully 
preserved until he knew that his person and premises were 
about to be searched by pitiless enemies } If they were political 
troubles, troubles at Court, or arising from his life in the 
world, they could hardly have been dangerous enough to make 
such unusual secrecy necessary.^ 

We are told that the paper was "probably" a letter from the 
Scotch King, but this is a mere guess; Cecil had a bundle of 
more dangerous letters at Hatfield. The fact is, the story of 
Essex, as we have it, is a fiction emanating from his enemies, 
and never correctly told. It has been a case of following the 

* This is from Birch. An edited version is in the Lives and Letters of Devereux, 
vol. II, p. 68. 

* Bruce, Letters to James VI, pp. 80, 81. 

3 Again we refer to the Cipher Story, ante, p. 559. 

609 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

leader by every one who has written upon the subject, even by 
Devereux, who repeats the cut-and-dried story of the confes- 
sion and execution of the most noted of his past kinsmen. 
None of them has ever attempted to subject this inspired story 
to a critical analysis, and a brave and gallant gentleman has 
come down to us a hair-brained and turbulent fool. If, how- 
ever, he was really the son of Leicester and the Queen, his atti- 
tude toward her appears no longer strange, and his "troubles" 
are readily accounted for. 

In the trial of Essex there is a reasonable probability that 
the position of the Queen and Bacon was misunderstood. 
Essex had headed a dangerous uprising, and it was necessary 
to the integrity of the throne that he should be suppressed, no 
matter how dear to the Queen or to Bacon he might have been. 
There was but one way open to Essex, namely, to frankly con- 
fess his error and throw himself upon the Queen's mercy, and 
this was just what Bacon urged him to do. It is probable that 
this was what the Queen ardently desired, as it left her an 
opportunity to pardon him, but the proud rebel resented every 
suggestion of the confession which Bacon urgently pressed 
upon him, no doubt with the hope of saving his life. Even 
after his conviction there is evidence that he would have been 
pardoned if the Queen could have had her way. This may be 
no more than a plausible deduction from the account of the 
trial as we have it, but it seems worth considering. 

Among the silent memorials left by prisoners in the Tower is 
one presumably made by Essex, which is pregnant with signifi- 
cance. We quote from the official hand-book of the tower : — 

Over the doorway of the small cell, at the foot of the stairs, 
is the name RobartTidir.^ (Ste facsimile on next page.) 

Tidir or Tidder is an obsolete form of Tudor, that royal 
family of which Elizabeth was the last representative, and it 
is a remarkable fact that Francis Bacon's "New Atlantis," 

* W. R. Dicke, J Short Sketch of Beaumont Tower, p. ii. London. 

6io 



CIPHERS 

published after his death by his chaplain, contains these words 
in cipher, " My name is Tidder, yet men speak of me as Bacon." 




We leave it for the reader to decide if the conditions sur- 
rounding the execution of Essex are not precisely such as 
would have existed if the cipher story were true. It should, 
however, be borne in mind that, while the cipher story sug- 
gested this study of the case of Essex, all that is here adduced 
rests upon historical data. This will be denied by prejudiced 
critics, who will call our citations scraps of fiction raked from 
the muck-heaps of ancient scandal, but they are just as reliable 
as the "well-filed" orthodox history of the time. 

In addition to the authorities quoted we direct the student 
to others, with full confidence that if he critically studies that 
part of English history in which Elizabeth Tudor and Robert 
Dudley played such conspicuous parts, he will conclude that 
they rationally fit into and accord with it.^ 

THE queen's ring 

The story of the ring, said to have been given by the Queen 
to Essex as a pledge to help him in his last extremity, has been 
retold by many writers to the present time, but recently has 
been declared to be a fiction. In seeking reasons for this it 

^ Vide Samuel Haynes, Collection of State Papers, etc., 1542, 1570. London, 
1740; The Hardzvicke and Tytler Papers; Historic Memoirs of Sir James Melville; 
Throckmorton MSS.; especially the Burghley Papers, noted in Calendar of MSS. 
of Marquis of Salisbury, under heads of "Elizabeth" and "Leicester"; and 
Gregorio Leti's Fie d' Elizabeth, founded upon the manuscript collections of 
Lord Aylesbury, now unfortunately lost. Leti's failure to quote his authorities 
verbatim is nearly as unfortunate as their loss. 

611 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

appears that the story has been told of two rings, and that 
neither Howell nor the Helmingham manuscript mentions the 
ring at all. This seems to be the principal reason urged for 
discrediting the story, and is a novel way of establishing a 
negative to one acquainted with that useful chronicler, How- 
ell, for we well know that there were many true occurrences 
which he did not record. The lack of mention in the Helming- 
ham manuscript is an equally unfortunate citation. That the 
objection urged by those who discredit the story fails to settle 
the question rests upon as good authority as Judge Stephen, 
who firmly expresses his confidence in the truth of the tradi- 
tion in these words : — 

There is at Helmingham a portrait of Essex's daughter, Lady 
Frances Devereux, wearing the jewel in an earring, and in case 
this does not convince my readers, I may add that the jewel 
itself, a ring with a lock of hair, which may once have been red, 
hanging from it, is now at Ham House, the property of the Earl 
of Dysart.^ 

Let us endeavor to trace the story to its source. 

The first recorded account of the ring is given by Aubery de 
Maurier, French Ambassador to Holland, who had it from Sir 
Dudley Carleton, the English Ambassador there under Eliza- 
beth's successor. Carleton returned from his embassy in i6i8.^ 
That the story was in circulation at an early date appears from 
an allusion to it by Clarendon in a book supposed to have been 
written while at Magdalen College, where he matriculated in 
1621.^ The best account is by Lady Elizabeth Spelman, the 
great-granddaughter of Sir Robert Cary, who attended upon 
Queen Elizabeth during her last days. She says: — 

When the Countess of Nottingham was dying, she sent to en- 
treat the Queen to visit her, as she had something to reveal before 
she could die in peace. On the Queen's coming. Lady Notting- 

^ H. L. Stephen, State Trials, vol. in, p. 81. London, 1902. 
^ Mem. pour servir a VHistoire (THollande, p. 269. Paris, 1688. 
' Disparity between the Earl of Essex and the Duke of Buckingham. 

612 



CIPHERS 

ham told her that when the Earl of Essex was lying under sen- 
tence of death, he was desirous to ask Her Majesty's mercy in the 
manner she had prescribed during the height of his favour. Being 
doubtful of those about him, and unwilling to trust any of them, 
he called a boy whom he saw passing beneath his window, and 
whose appearance pleased him, and engaged him to carry the ring, 
which he threw down to him, to the Lady Scrope, a sister of Lady 
Nottingham, and a friend of the Earl, who was also in attend- 
ance on the Queen, and to beg her to present it to Her Majesty. 
The boy, by mistake, took It to Lady Nottingham, who showed 
it to her husband in order to take his advice. The Earl forbade 
her to carry it to the Queen, or return any answer to the mes- 
sage, but desired her to retain the ring. Lady Nottingham, hav- 
ing made this confession, entreated the Queen's forgiveness; but 
Elizabeth, exclaiming, "God may forgive you, but I never can!" 
left the room in great emotion, and was so much agitated and 
distressed that she refused to go to bed, nor would she for a long 
time take any sustenance. 

The ring has descended in one unbroken succession to the 
Reverend Lord John Thynne from Lady Frances Devereux, 
afterwards Duchess of Somerset, who was the daughter of the 
Earl of Essex. It bears the head, in relief, of Queen Elizabeth, 
engraved on a sardonyx; the sides are chased and the under 
side of the seal is blue enamel. That it was not mentioned in 
the will of the Duchess of Somerset is no proof against its gen- 
uineness, as doubtless it had been given already to her daugh- 
ter, Mary, wife of the Earl of WInchelsea, who passed it on 
to her daughter, Frances, wife of Thomas Thynne, Viscount 
Weymouth. 

That there is another ring which has been called the Essex 
ring is not strange ; it would be strange if there were not sev- 
eral. This ring is said to have belonged to the Queen of Scots, 
who gave it to Queen Elizabeth. In some unexplained way it 
is said to have passed into the possession of Charles I, who, its 
owner claims, gave It to Sir Thomas Warner, a West India 
adventurer. Its present owner is one of his descendants. Its 
title to validity is too shadowy for serious consideration, but 

613 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

as a matter of curiosity we give an accurate representation 
of it. 






THE WARNER RING 



THE QUEEN'S RING 



Wiien the cipher story appeared, which mentioned the ring, 
one of the first things seized upon by Stratfordians was this, 
and they hastily raised the objections which we have cited. 
Even should the cipher story be disproved, we believe that the 
reader will conclude that the story of the Queen's ring has 
sufficiently clear evidence in its favor to keep it out of the 
obscurity of merely popular tradition. 



EPILOGUE 

A SUMMARY OF WHAT IS RECORDED OF THE WHERE- 
ABOUTS AND DOINGS FROM TIME TO TIME OF 

FRANCIS BACON AND WILLIAM SHAKSPERE 

1560 (O.S.) 

Francis Bacon, born January 22, at York House, London. 
His early education could not have been in better hands. 
Nicholas and Lady Bacon were distinguished for character and 
scholarship. 

1564 

William Shakspere, baptized at Stratford, April 26, 1564; 
born of illiterate parents. Despite Lee's positive statement to 
the contrary there is not a shred of proof that his father could 
write his name. In all cases he made his mark. 

1572-1577 

Francis Bacon, phenomenally precocious, was reared amid 
intellectual surroundings. His attainments were such that 
before twelve his bust was made, and before eighteen his 
portrait was painted and inscribed "Could we but behold his 
mind." At this time he had "run through the whole circle of 
the liberal arts," and, dissatisfied with the methods of educa- 
tion then practiced, was devising means for improving them. It 
is said that he had acquired a knowledge of Hebrew, Greek, 
Latin, Spanish, Italian, and French. He was sent in 1577 
with Sir Amyas Paulet, the British Ambassador, to the Court 
of France, where he mingled with the most exalted statesmen 
and wits of that brilliant period, and acquired knowledge of 

615 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

foreign courts and politics. Such proficiencies are freely dis- 
played in the "Shakespeare" Works. 

Shakspere is supposed to have attended the Grammar 
School for a short time. Is supposed to have been removed 
from this school and apprenticed at the age of thirteen to a 
butcher, his father being in financial distress. 

1579 
Bacon called home, Sir Nicholas Bacon having died, be- 
queathing his property to Anthony and other children, but 
Francis virtually unprovided for. Lady Bacon provides him a 
home at Gorhambury, St. Albans; studies law *' against the 
hent of his genius." Evidence that he was on the Continent 
some time in 1580-81. 

1582 

Bacon admitted to the Bar. Between 1579 and this date 
Reed assigns production of "King John," "Henry V," and 
"King Lear." 

Shakspere marries, November 28, Anne Hathaway, an 
illiterate, under disreputable circumstances. Traditions of 
poaching and drinking-bouts survive. Six months later (May 
26) daughter Susanna born. 

1584 

Bacon, well versed in law and state affairs, writes letter of 
advice to the Queen, who accepts it "graciously." Between 
this date and 1582, Reed assigns "Pericles," "Titus Andro- 
nicus," and "Two Gentlemen of Verona." 

1585-86 

Bacon writes "Greatest Birth of Time," forerunner of 
"Advancement of Learning." Malone assigns "The Conten- 
tion, or Henry VI," to this period; its author's "earliest com- 
plete drama," says Phillipps. The play is cast in the province 

616 



EPILOGUE 

of France, where Bacon had resided, and in England. Its 
scenes- are laid in localities especially familiar to him — West- 
minster Abbey, Temple Grafton, Parliament House, and 
Saint Albans. 

Shakspere's children, Hamnet and Judith, born. 

1587 

Bacon assists in presenting, at Gray's Inn Revels, an anony- 
mous play, "The Tragedy of Arthur," a reminiscence of 
"King John," containing many extracts found in his notebook, 
the "Promus." Between 1585-87, Reed places "Hamlet," 
"Taming of the Shrew," and "Comedy of Errors"; in 1588, 
"Love's Labours Lost." Furnivall agrees; Staunton thinks 
1587-91. The scene is laid at the Court of Navarre where 
Bacon passed the romantic springtime of his life in close inti- 
macy with the brilliant men and women who composed it. 
Anthony Bacon, attached to the foreign diplomatic corps, 
residing in Italy, was in constant correspondence with Francis. 
During this period Italian plays were produced ; actors in four 
of them named Antonio, Italian for Anthony. The scenes 
where these plays were laid, Rome, Venice, Padua, Milan, 
Vienna, etc., were familiar to Anthony and Francis. 

Shakspere, forsaking the trade of butcher's apprentice, wife, 
and children, flees on foot to London to escape prosecution for 
stealing deer and rabbits. Reaching London, a rude peasant 
speaking the "patois" of Warwickshire, says Phillipps, he 
finds employment in Burbage's stable. "Hamlet," an anon- 
ymous play then on the stage, the same play that the best 
critics now admit is in the canon. 

1588-89 

Bacon in Parliament. He writes "Advertisement Touching 
the Controversies of the Church" ; is given reversion of clerk- 
ship in Star Chamber yielding no immediate salary. Delius 
assigns this date to "Venus and Adonis"; others even earlier. 

617 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Shakspere "a servitor" in the company of Burbage. Is 
mentioned in a bill of complaint against John Lambert of 
Stratford. 

1591 

Bacon residing at Gray's Inn with intervals at Gorhambury 
and Twickenham. During four years, though a man never 
idle, he published no works under his own name. He writes 
Lord Burghley that he has "vast contemplative ends," but 
"moderate civil ends," and that " philanthropia is so fixed" in 
his "mind that it cannot be removed." The Queen visits him 
at Twickenham and he presents her with a sonnet. To this 
period is attributed "The Two Gentlemen of Verona," and 
by some " Henry VI." Anthony Bacon returns from abroad. 

1592 

Francis and Anthony secretaries to the Earl of Essex, whose 
extravagance leaves salaries unpaid. Francis, who has given 
bond for "two months" to a Jew, is sued and imprisoned. 
Anthony relieves him by mortgage on his property. The faith- 
ful friend in the play of the "Merchant of Venice" is another 
Antony, a good likeness of the Anthony whom Spedding 
depicts.^ Delius assigns "Romeo and Juliet" to this date. 
"Henry VI" acted by "Lord Strange's men." 

Shakspere's personal description, comporting with what is 
hitherto known of him, is given by Greene. 

"Venus and Adonis," is published with name William 
Shakespeare on the title-page. In the dedication to Bacon's 
friend, Southampton, the author says, it Is "the first heir of 
mine Invention," which would carry It back to a much earlier 
date. Bacon publishes reply to attack upon the Government, 
and espouses popular cause, to displeasure of Burghley and 
the Queen. Obliged by plague he leaves Gray's Inn, suspend- 

^ See Lee's attempt to connect this play with the well-known Lopez incident 
{Life, etc., p. 68). And Dictionary National Biography, in loco. 

618 



EPILOGUE 

ing his lectures there, and takes refuge at Twickenham, "not 
to play and read, but to pursue philosophy, and to discuss the 
laws of thought." 

Shakspere's name, for the first time since coming to London, 
appears in a list of actors in a Christmas play before the Queen. 

1594 
Bacon's "Promus" begun, December 5. It contains 1560 
phrases, poetical expressions, quotations, and proverbs from 
various languages for use in literary composition. These are 
found scattered throughout the "Shakespeare" Works, as 
well as Bacon's philosophical works, especially after this date. 
The Christmas Masque at Gray's Inn proves a failure, and 
Bacon is solicited for aid "in recovering" its "lost honour." 
Lady Bacon is greatly disturbed at the connection of Anthony 
and Francis with dramatic performances. "Lucrece," dedi- 
cated to Bacon's friend, Southampton, is published. " Richard 
11" and "Richard III" appear and "II Henry VI." Bacon, 
"poor and sick working for bread." Essex, in debt to the 
Bacons for salary, asks the Queen to appoint Francis Solicitor- 
General. Angered by him, she refuses, and Essex conveys to 
him land adjoining Twickenham valued at eighteen hundred 
pounds. The Queen forgives Essex, who entertains on the 
Queen's Day. Bacon composes "The Device of an Indian 
Prince" for the occasion. He writes in notebook, "Law at 
Twickenham for ye merry tales"; writes Essex that "Law 
drinketh too much time — dedicated to better purposes." 

1595 
After " a great consultation for the recovery of their hon- 
our," carried on in amusing manner, on January 3, an enter- 
tainment, "one of the most elegant, that was ever presented to 
an audience of statesmen and courtiers," entitled the "Order 
of the Helmet," is produced, and the lost honor of Gray's Inn 
is saved by Bacon. "Midsummer Night's Dream," "All's 

619 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

Well that ends Well," and "The Merchant of Venice" presum- 
ably were written. " III Henry VI," published; Collins says, 
"'All's Weir perhaps produced in 1593 or 1594, under title 
'Love's Labour's Won.'" ^ In this play we find "the law for 
ye merry tales," which greatly impressed Lord Campbell by 
the author's accurate knowledge of law. 

Shakspere listed on subsidies tax list in St. Helens, Bishops- 
gate. 

1596 

Bacon writes "Colours of Good and Evil" and "Medita- 
tionae Sacrae." 

The Lord Chamberlain's Company before the Queen. She 
pays Burbage, Shakspere, and Kempe the sum of twenty 
pounds. Shakspere returned as defaulter in subsidy tax in St. 
Helens. His son, Hamnet dies August 11. 

1597 

Bacon speaks in Parliament against enclosures January 30. 
Writes his friend Mathews, of "Works of his Recreation," and 
that "Tragedies and Comedies are made of one Alphabet." 
His Essays, dedicated to Anthony, published. "Romeo and 
Juliet," "Richard II," and "Richard III," the two latter 
partly rewritten and published anonymously. 

Shakspere is recorded living near "Bear Garden, South- 
wark." Buys New Place, Stratford. Is taxed at St. Helens. 
Is returned as householder in Chapel Street, Stratford, and as 
owner of ten quarters of corn. 

1598 

Bacon is embarrassed by the Queen's anger because of a 
pamphlet by Hayward based upon the play of "Richard 11"; 
"I Henry IV," and "Love's Labours Lost" published; the 
latter, first drama bearing name "William Shake-speare." 

^ The Complete Works, etc. Porter & Clark, p. g., vol. iv. London, n. d. 

620 



EPILOGUE 

Says Lee : — 

"Love's Labour's Lost" embodies keen observation of con- 
temporary life in many ranks of society, both in town and coun- 
try, while the speeches of the hero, Biron, clothe much sound 
philosophy in masterly rhetoric, contemporary projects of Aca- 
demics for disciplining young men, fashions of speech and dress 
current in fashionable society; recent attempts on the part of 
Elizabeth's government to negotiate with the Tsar of Russia; 
the inefficiency of rural constables and the pedantry of village 
schoolmasters and curates, are all satirized good humour.^ 

Lee here summons before us the personality of Bacon, not 
of the Stratford actor. 

Bacon proffers Burghley a masque at Gray's Inn; he writes, 
— " It happened that Her Majesty had a purpose to dine at 
Twickenham Park at which time I had prepared a sonnet, 
directly tending, and alluding to draw on Her Majesty's recon- 
cilement to my lord (of Essex)." 

Shakspere is "supposed" to have played in Jonson's 
"Every Man in his Humour"; "supposed" part Old Knowell. 
Again taxed in St. Helens. Bought stone to repair his house. 
Is written to by friends about buying some odd yardland at 
Shottery and loans of money. 

Phillipps says : — 

It is certain . . . that his thoughts were not at this time 
absorbed by literature, or the stage. So far from this being the 
case, there are good reasons for concluding that they were 
largely occupied with matters relating to pecuniary affairs. He 
was then considering the advisability of purchasing an "odd yard 
land or other" in the neighborhood. 

I 599-1600 

Bacon busy with his literary work and a scriptorium which 
he and Anthony are carrying on. Employs Ben Jonson and 
others writing for it. Shakspere fraudulently obtains confirma- 
tion of coat of arms, formerly applied for by his father, which 

^ Lee, A Life of, etc., p. 50. 
621 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

causes protest to be made to the Herald-at-Arms, and excites 
ridicule among the wits and writers of the metropoUs. Essex 
is prosecuted for treason. Bacon endeavors to placate the 
Queen. Drafts letters for Essex to that end. Bacon writes the 
Queen about the condition of Lady Bacon, who is lapsing into 
insanity, a subject so well treated in "Hamlet" and "Lear," 
that alienists have admiringly commented upon it. "Henry 
V"; "Midsummer Night's Dream"; "Merchant of Venice"; 
"Much Ado," and "Titus Andronicus," published. Shak- 
spere recovers debt of seven pounds of John Clayton, London. 

1601 

Bacon, studying in his "poor cell" at Gray's Inn, re- 
moves to Twickenham. By command of the Queen he con- 
ducts the prosecution of Essex. Essex is executed. Anthony 
dies. 

Furnivall assigns "Julius Caesar" to this date and cites this 
contemporary allusion : — 

The lesson of Julius Csesar is that vengeance, death, shall follow 
rebellion for insufficient cause, for misjudging the political state 
of one's country and taking unlawful means to obtain your 
ends.^ 

1602 

May I, Shakspere purchases 107 acres of land in Old Strat- 
ford, and September 28 a cottage and garden near New Place; 
plants an orchard. 

1603 

Elizabeth dies. Everybody about Court anxious to be 
brought to the notice of James, their living depending upon 
his favor. Bacon writes Sir John Davis, known as a poet, then 
on his way to meet the King, desiring him "to be good to 
concealed poets," and remember him with a good word when 

^ John Weever, Mirror of Martyrs. London, 1601. 
622 



EPILOGUE 

at Court. His "Valerius Terminus" published. In Parliament 
Bacon speaks against abuses in weights and measures, and in 
favor of repealing superfluous laws. Writes "Certain Con- 
siderations Touching the Better Pacification of the Church of 
England," and the beginning of the "Advancement of Learn- 
ing." "Measure for Measure" Is played for the first and only 
time, until after publication twenty years later, when It was 
played at Pembroke House, Wilton, to entertain the King who 
was attending the trial of Ralegh at Winchester. In this play 
we meet Bacon face to face, and hear again what he has said 
about "absolute" and "sleeping" laws: the "law's delay," 
"judicature," abuses of weights and measures, etc. It has 
been suggested that Isabella's speech was introduced In 
Ralegh's behalf to Incline the King's heart to mercy. "Merry 
Wives of Windsor" is also published. 

1604 

Bacon writes "Apology In Certain Imputations concerning 
the Late Earl of Essex," and four Drafts and Acts of Procla- 
mations: appointed a member of the "Learned Counsel," and 
chosen spokesman for Committees of Conference with House 
of Lords. "Othello" is attributed by Delius to this year, and 
"Lear" by others. 

Shakspere is listed with other actors as licensed by the King; 
"supposedly" acts in Jonson's play of "Sejanus"; walks in 
procession from the Tower to Westminster with other actors, 
and Is allowed four yards and a half of scarlet cloth to deck 
himself withal. Sues Rogers, a neighbor, for one pound, 
fifteen shillings and ten pence, for malt delivered him on 
several occasions; is listed as holding a cottage and garden in 
Stratford. 

1605-06 

Bacon publishes two books of "Advancement of Learning." 
Spedding says, prorogation of Parliament gave him best part 

623 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

of year for literary work. Proposes to Lord Chancellor to write 
history of Great Britain. Marries daughter of Lady Pack- 
ington ; third edition of Essays published by Jaggard who 
printed the Shakespeare Folio. "A Lover's Complaint" writ- 
ten about this time; Sonnet XII reveals thoughts on youth 
and age. 

Shakspere buys moiety of the tithes of Old Stratford and 
adjoining parishes for four hundred and forty pounds. Is be- 
queathed "a thirty shillinges peece in goold" by Phillips, a 
fellow actor. The company to which he belongs performs 
"King Lear" and "Macbeth," at Whitehall, December 26, 
1606, but his name is not mentioned. Is engaged in trade 
and agriculture; listed in Stratford as holder of copyhold 
estate. 

1607 

Bacon is promoted to the office of Solicitor-General. Is in- 
terested in founding colony in Virginia; comparatively free 
from public business this year. 

Shakspere's daughter, Susanna, marries Dr. Hall at Strat- 
ford. 

1608-09 

Bacon is near nervous breakdown affecting his "imagina- 
tion" seriously. His good friend. Sir Tobie Matthews, be- 
comes a Roman Catholic, is banished. Bacon secures suspen- 
sion of decree, and, subsequently, befriends him; is abused 
therefor. "Pericles" and "A Yorkshire Tragedy" on the 
stage. Bacon in correspondence with Matthews to whose 
critical judgment he submits his manuscripts; speaks of his 
scientific and historical works, and of "other writings" and 
"the little work of my recreation." "Troilus and Cressida" 
published, also the Sonnets, dedicated to Bacon's lifelong 
friend, William Herbert. 

Shakspere recovers suit against John Adenbrook for seven 

624 



EPILOGUE 

pounds, four shillings, and, upon failure to pay, sues his 
bondsman. Godfather to son of William Walker, a neighbor. 
Purchases twenty acres of pasture land of Combe. The com- 
pany to which he belongs is at the Blackfriars, but his name 
not mentioned. 

1610-12 

Bacon begins a history of Great Britain. "Cymbeline" and 
"Winter's Tale" attributed by DeUus to this date. The latter 
contains Bacon's horticultural observations. Is member of the 
Virginia Company with his friends, Southampton, Pembroke, 
and Montgomery, who send Sir John Somers to West Indies ; 
his ship wrecked on Bermudas; the "still vexed Bermoothes." 
To this voyage is due "The Tempest," written soon after, 
which embodies so many of the results of Bacon's studies as to 
distinctly fix its authorship.^ It was played before the King, 
November i, 161 1. Shakspere's name was not mentioned as 
present. Bacon is made Secretary of State; takes principal 
part in masque at Gray's Inn. 

Shakspere's estate, bought of the Combes, fined. His name 
appears in a lawsuit, and he is also engaged in litigation over 
his share in the tithes bought on speculation seven years 
before. 

1613 

Bacon appointed Attorney-General. Wrote masque which 
he presented at Gray's Inn in honor of the Earl of Somerset, 
which cost him two thousand pounds ; refused to permit others 
to contribute, though Yelverton desired to subscribe five 
hundred pounds. "Henry VIII" ascribed to this date. 

Shakspere is still at Stratford engaged in petty trade accord- 
ing to Phlllipps; attentive to business, growing in estate, pur- 

* Cf. Bacon's Heat and Cold; Ebb and Flow of the Sea; the Biform Figure of 
Nature; exhibited in Ariel and Caliban; History of the Winds; the Sailing of 
Ships; Dense and Rare. 

625 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

chasing farms, houses, and tithes in Stratford, bringing suits 
for small sums against various persons for malt delivered, 
money loaned, and the like ; carrying on agricultural pursuits, 
and other kinds of traffic. The best evidence we can produce 
exhibits him as paying more regard to his solid affairs than to 
his profession. It seems that he must have practically deserted 
the stage shortly after the purchase of his Stratford home. 
June 29, the Globe Theater is burned ; his name is not men- 
tioned. Burbage is employed by Lord Rutland's steward to 
paint his master's cognizance, or "impresso," as it was called, 
for a celebration at the castle of Belvoir. This was a coat of 
arms with coarse mantlings gaudily painted on canvas or 
boards to impress the gaping mob with the importance of 
their lord. His former associate residing in the vicinity, Bur- 
bage procures his assistance, and Shakspere is paid for his 
services forty-four shillings. Buys with three others house 
near Blackfriars in London for one hundred and forty pounds; 
mortgages it back for sixty pounds; "was unpaid at his 
death." 1 

1614-15 

Bacon is returned Member of Parliament for Cambridge 
University; engaged in the trial of Earl and Countess of Som- 
erset, et al.y for poisoning Sir Thomas Overbury. 

Shakspere, at Stratford, shrewdly secures an agreement to 
indemnify him from loss in his old investment in the tithes. 
John A. Combe dies and leaves Shakspere five pounds ; is said 
to have composed an epitaph for his benefactor, which Phil- 
lipps discredits, as he may well do for one he supposes to be the 
author of the "Shakespeare" Works. Shakspere conspires to 
acquire certain common land in the purlieus of Stratford by 
enclosure. Correspondence and notes in Greene's diary reveal 
the actor's interest in this unjust proceeding. April 26, 1615, 
a petitioner with others to Chancellor Egerton to compel 

^ Lee, A Life, etc., p. 267. 
626 



EPILOGUE 

Mathew Bacon to deliver up certain papers relative to tide 
of the Blackfriars property. 

1616 

Bacon is made Privy Councillor. Projects a compilation and 
revision of the laws of England. 

Shakspere dies after an illness superinduced by having 
"drank too hard," leaving will covering his minutest belong- 
ings, cutting off his wife with "second best bed." His children 
were reared in profound ignorance, yet his partisans ask us to 
believe that he wrote that 

Ignorance is the curse of God; 

Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to heaven. 

He was never a manager of a theater, and the particulars 
concerning him in this summary may all be found in Rowe, 
Malone, Knight, Phillipps, Furnivall, Lee, and other authors 
of biographies of him, and of Bacon in Rawley, Montagu, and 
Spedding. 

With respect to the "Shakespeare" Works, it is proper to 
here repeat that seven years after the actor's death, they were 
collected and printed in a volume — the First Folio, by Jag- 
gard. Bacon's printer, and that this volume contained, of the 
fifty-two dramas since attributed to the author of the " Shake- 
speare" Works, thirty-six, twenty of which had never before 
been published, and several never before known. Many of 
these had been enlarged by additions after the actor's death, 
unmistakably by their original author, and all of them are 
found to contain hundreds of extracts or expressions found in 
Bacon's notebook, and his other works. This is so significant 
that to escape a fatal dilemma some critics have adopted the 
impossible theory that the actor and philosopher collaborated. 

We have endeavored to embody in this summary every 
fact and tradition recorded relative to the Stratford actor. 
The reader will see that, despite Mr. Lee's dogmatic assertions 
to the contrary, not a single fact of importance in its bearing 

627 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

upon his life and authorship has been added to the common 
stock of knowledge regarding him which existed when Nich- 
olas Rowe wrote his misleading "Life," and we ask, Does not 
what we have here recorded point unmistakably to the con- 
clusion, that when he purchased his home in Stratford in 1597, 
he took up his permanent residence there, making an occa- 
sional visit to London, as Phillipps has suggested, and that from 
about this time till his death he was engaged in trade as his 
father had been, dealing in land, and other local products, 
especially wool, as the wool sack upon his original monument 
indicated ? Every possible effort has been made to show that he 
continued his titular profession, but beyond the enrollment of 
his name in two or three instances with other actors, without 
assignment of parts, which might have been done if he were 
a shareholder, nothing appears. Phillipps, impressed by the 
absence of knowledge respecting his theatrical employment, 
laboriously traced for a period of twenty years, ending with 
the date of his death, the movements of the company with 
which he had been connected in London — "his company" — 
and though he gathered the records of its performances in all 
the principal towns which it visited during that period, he was 
obliged to acknowledge that his name nowhere appeared 
among the names of his former associates ; indeed, Greene's 
description of him as a "factotum," or man of all work, seems 
to have been an accurate one, which his subsequent employ- 
ment by Burbage in arranging the decorations for the show at 
Belvoir Castle in 161 3 accentuates. He had acquired by some 
means a few hundred pounds, and would hardly have had an 
incentive to remain in a profession in which "the top of his 
performance was the ghost in Hamlet," and according to John 
Davies, "kingly parts in sport." Even Oldys's story of his 
impersonation of an old man, Phillipps dismisses as containing 
"several discrepancies," without "a glimmering of truth." ^ 
Though forced to make this important admission, that "there 

^ Outlines, vol. i, p. i88. 
628 



EPILOGUE 

is no reason for believing that he was ever one of the royal 
actors," he has to console his readers with the suggestion 
that "we may be sure that he must have witnessed either at 
Stratford or London some of the inimitable performances of 
the company's star, the celebrated Richard Tarleton." ^ Such 
consolation would be funny were it not pitiable. The same 
may be said of the oft-repeated story that he wrote the 
"Merry Wives of Windsor" at the Queen's command ; there 
is nothing to sustain it. The wonder is that so many towering 
fabrics have been reared upon such flimsy foundations. 

FINAL WORDS 

As we have not related in our sketch of Bacon the calum- 
nious stories of his enemies, ignorance of them may be imputed 
to us, as it has been undeservedly to Spedding; since, with the 
exception of a salacious bit of court gossip about Mary Fitton, 
which requires too great a strain upon the imagination to 
connect it with Bacon, they emanated from men notoriously 
envious and malicious, like Wilson, Weldon, and the self- 
righteous D'Ewes, who measured others by his own insuffi- 
cient standards. The burden of testimony is all against them. 
Boener, his physician; Rawley, his chaplain; Bushell, his 
disciple; Matthew, his alter ego; Pierre Amboise, Fuller, and a 
score of others all testify to his indefectible Christian charac- 
ter. A man who after the triumph of his enemies could write 
to Buckingham, " I thank God I have overcome the bitterness 
of this cup by Christian resolution, so that worldly matters 
are but mint and cumin," and who at the same time could 
make the prayer elsewhere produced, which Addison declared 
to be "more like the prayer of an angel than a man," cannot 
be harmed in the estimation of fair-minded men by the cryptic 
story of a court gossip, or the unsupported calumny of such 
men as we have named, many of whose other utterances have 
been discredited and condemned by the best writers since 

* Outlines, vol. I, p. 92. 
629 



THE GREATEST OF LITERARY PROBLEMS 

their time. Well may it be said of Francis Bacon, Virtus vincit 
invidiam. 

The letter " S " placed at the end of this book as a colophon 
is especially interesting as having been used by Bacon for the 
initial letter of the dedication of the French Academie of 1586, 
and the dedication of his Essays in 1625. Mr. Smedley, who 
calls attention to this curious fact, asks the pregnant question: 
*' Did Bacon mark his first work on philosophy, and his last hook, 
by printing the first letter in each from the same block ?" — for 
the block used in 1586 is the very one used thirty-nine years 
later, and is not a duplicate. Since Mr. Smedley does not ex- 
plain the significance of the design, we will do so. 

We have already mentioned the use made of emblems as 
vehicles to convey instruction to simple minds long before 
Bacon's time, and of the use he made of them in marking his 
books, and recording, though not revealing, to the uninitiated 
the false role of the Stratford actor. Recognizing in emblems 
humble aids to advance knowledge, he employed and popu- 
larized them. A glance at Green's book shows their extensive 
use in the "Shakespeare" Works. 

The reader will observe that this rude letter "S" is 

wreathed with flowering vines supporting vases of fruits and 

flowers : — 

"^j" the vine brought I forth pleasant savour, 
and my flowers are the fruit of honour and riches. 
I am the mother of fair love, and fear, and knowledge and hope.^' 

At the base, on the right, is Pan, the gross deity of Nature, 
with butterfly wings all too light to lift him from earth ; on the 
left a man wearing a robe and girdle (emblem of righteous- 
ness), while above each shoulder is a strong wing (emblem of 
knowledge); "For knowledge is the wing by which we fiy to 
heaven'' Between them is a fish, the Christian symbol. The 
man on the left, pointing to this emblem, is earnestly exhort- 
ing the man before him ; above them is a bell to arouse atten- 

630 



EPILOGUE 

tlon. The meaning of this rude and simple emblem is evident ; 
namely, the instruction of the animalized man in spiritual 
knowledge ; the work to which Bacon's life was devoted from 
the beginning to the end of his career. This interpretation is 
in exact accord with ancient emblem lore. 




BIBLIOGRAPHY 



3k StFiin^ 3'muii ncfrailio ac£n.Ov^uJdt M^ inltkunm 



-- - - 'd^i ----- , ^. , .. ^.^^,^„.,j,,. 



^topnw ^flt'am Ai^PMreanl(fJLtexanLtMmfffDmc'^iaxa(mal, 
U ^dc fj(ratianscji/^c ^clUian ^taty-.flie ^i^tioida dt^tietiLrg- 

lifi Mnrradt cfOxprdd^fiivtrjifr^ wGmalt a iffumrfio (fammJpe in mr 

SmelUy; if^s lafe Sir 6lwift^ui'tiin4'(au>retut, Mr'£ic£e(C n ^iil 
wicliQdU£^£;, JU. (FC.'9effH0ff/,^ft'arian (i(i(itMHmaa Sitaiforl-m- 
Moui ifranmU C. Cnnnin^/iam Sjjc ^CvJ(amI parley, jicnry SUvtm 
4 2^m[and^anl ejfecia[ly iff Jjlt. SlmtlM^nlxam ^'Hbv 3eljurljl<xil 
jor m a, ImiraHe zJrJex, 

^ifJ'liar'C amaly ifiii'3'witl i£ailXilie na£rjotJrsehf exptss^ 
imio mc & opinion ofilxc. mw^Emitir unplIcL 

The above note is printed in facsimile letters taken from Bacon's own biformed 
alphabet on page 532. By following his rule there given, any one can easily decipher 
the message which the author has concealed in it. It is a pretty experiment, and will 
repay the reader for the few moments he may devote to it. The simple rule is to copy 
it, separate the letters in groups of five, and place a dot or mark under each letter found 
in the h or second font. The first group will be found to signify B, the second A, and so 
on to the end. The fact that the letters in which this note is printed are facsimiles of 
those used by Bacon himself in his De Augmentis to illustrate his biliteral cipher proves 
beyond question its employment by him. 



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^3S 



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* The name " August " does not appear on some title-pages. 



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/ 



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655 



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657 



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658 



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INDEX 



INDEX 



A., E.,63S. .. 
A., B. J., xxvu. 

A ,W. W., 653- 

Abbott, E. A., i6o, i6i, 297, 332. 

Aberdeen, 514. 

Acrostics, 430, 432, 637, 658. 

Adams, John Stokes, 653. 

Adamson, Prof. Robert, 346. 

Addenbrooke, John, 57, 624. 

Addison, Joseph, 430, 629. 

Adee, A. A., 653. 

Adee, David Graham, 653. 

"Advancement of Learning," 436, 478, 492, 

498, 509, 548, SS4> 616, 623. . ^^ 

"Advertisement Touchmg Controversies, 

617. 
Adriatic Sea, 494, 495. 
iEneas, 506. 
iEschylus, 477. 
.^sop, Clodius, 75. 
Agassiz, J. L. R., 293. 
Aizen, N., 653. 
"Ajax," 635. 
Albanact, 171, 172. 
Albania, 172. 

Albertus Magnus, 302, 310. 
Albigenses, the, 406, 408. 
Albion, 172. 

Alciati, Alciatus, 415, 503, S°^- 
Allen, Charles, 635, 653. 
Alleyn, Edward, 75, 106, 13S, IS5- 
Allibone, S. A., 653. 
"All's Well that Ends Well," 104, 620. 
Alpine Provinces, the, 406. 
Alsace, 635. 
Alvor, P., 635. 
Amboise, Pierre, 349, 629. 
Amboyna Island, 551. 
America, xii. 
"Americanisms," 548, 
"Amoretti," 448, 449, 451, 4S2- 
Anacreon, 470. 
Anagrams, 426, 428, 429, 430, 640, 641, 

64s, 648. 
"Anatomy of Melancholy," see "Treatise 

of Melancholie." 
Anders, H.R.D., 51,52- 
Anderson, M. B., 653. 
Andrews, Rev. Lancelot, 441. 
"Andronicus," 478. 
Aneau, Bartholomew, 503. 
Angelo, Michael, 459. 
Anne, Queen, 450. 
"Anne Boleyn," 527, 566. 
Anne of Bohemia, 496. 
Anshelmus, Thomas, 414. 



"Antiquary," 635. 

"Antony and Cleopatra," 104, 152. 

Antony, Mark, 107, 108. 

Antrim, County of, 596. 

"Apology for Actors," 90. 

" AppoUonius Tyrias.The Romance of,"l3S. 

Apsley, Sir Allen, 490. 

Aquila, the Bishop of, 9. 

Aquinas, Thomas, 302. 

Aragon, 495. 

Archer, , 481. 

Arcite, 188, 189, 190, 191, 192, 194, I9S- 

Ardbracken, 609. 

Arden, Alice, 180, 183, 184. 

Arden, Mary, 34, 37, iS3» 259- „ „ 

"Arden of Feversham," in, 118, 178, 180, 

181, 183. 
Ardens, the, 34. 
"Argenis," The, 413, 583, S84, S^S> S86, 

589, 590,591, 592- ^ 
"Argumentis," see "De Argumentis. 
Ariosto, Ludovico, 76, 455. 
Aristotle, 301, 305, 339, 340, 343, 356, 506, 

509. 
Armada, The, 10, 139, 317, 525, 549, 589- 

" Arraignment of Paris, The," in, 47°, 475 • 

"Art of English Poesie, The," 584. 

Arthurian Romances, The, 14. 

Artois, Count of, 209, 210, 218, 220. 

Arundel, Earl of, 8, 372. 

Asbies lawsuit, the, 69. 

Ascham, Roger, 41, 42. 

Ashbourne Free Grammar School, 234. 

Ashbourne Portrait, 234, 235. 

Asher, David, 653. 

Ashhurst, R.L, 635. 

Ashley, Mrs. Katharine, 3. 

Ashton, Rev. Abadie, 601, 602, 603, 604, 
605. 

Astrsea, 430. 

"Astrophel," 452. 

"As You Like It," 96, 104, 514, 5I5, 526. 

Asvins, 411, 412. 

Ate, 171. 

Athens, 126. 

Atkinson, A. R., 653. 

Atkinson, H. G., 635, 654. 

Atlantic Ocean, 339. 

Aubrey, John, 28, 38, 39, 40, 99, 245, 297, 
460. 

Audley, 218, 220. 

"Augmentis Scientiarum," 424. 

Augustus, 2d Duke of Brunswick-Lunse- 
berg, 418, 419, 635. 

Aulis, 506. 

Austria, 494, 495- 



667 



INDEX 



Aylesbury, Lord, 6ii. 
Aysshome, 57. 

B., G. H. P., 635. 

Bacon, Lady Anne, 304, 305, 327, 369, 382, 
443, 448, SI I, 592, 598, 615, 616, 619, 
622. 

Bacon, Anthony, 304, 305, 309, 311, 314, 
318, 370, 372, 373, 382, 398, 409, 419, Sio, 
511, 521, 604, 60s, 608, 616, 617, 618, 619, 
620, 622, 662. 

Bacon Creping, 420. 

Bacon, Delia, xxvi, xxvii, 63s, 636, 639, 654, 
664. 

Bacon, Sir Edmund, 443. 

Bacon family, the, 409, 443, 488. 

Bacon, Francis, BaronVerulam,Viscount St. 
Albans, xx, xxii, xxv, xxvi, xxvii, xxix, 7, 19 
2S, 28, 30, 31, 33, 75, 76, 78, 79, 87, 89, 92 
104, 128, 129, 130, 154, 155, 156, 195, 196 
207, 222, 236, 249, 251, 272, 273, 274, 276 
292, 294, 29s, 296, 297, 298, 299, 300, 301 
302, 303, 304, 305, 306, 307, 308, 309, 3 10 
311,312,313,314,315,316,317,318,319 
320, 321, 322, 323, 324, 325, 326, 327, 328 
329, 330, 331. 332, 333, 334, 336, 337, 339 
340, 341, 342, 343, 344, 345, 346, 347, 348 
349, 350, 351, 352, 353, 354, 356, 357, 358 
359, 360, 361, 362, 363, 364, 365, 367, 369 
370, 371, 372, 373, 374, 375, 376, 377, 378 
379, 381, 386, 388, 389, 390, 391, 393, 394 
395, 396, 397, 398, 399, 400, 4°!, 404, 406 
408, 409, 410, 41 1, 412, 413, 414, 415, 410 
417, 418, 419, 420, 421, 422, 423, 424, 425 
426, 428, 429, 432, 433, 434, 435, 436, 437 
438, 444, 447, 450, 458, 459, 462, 463, 464 
465, 469, 474, 477, 482, 483, 484, 480, 488 
489, 490, 491, 492, 496, 498, 499, 500, 505 
506, 507, 508, 509, 510, 511, 513, 514, 51S 
516, 517, 518, 519, 520, 521, 522, 523, 524 
526, 528, 530, 533, 534, 535, 536, 538, 542 
544, 545, 547, 548, 549, 550, 552, 553, 554 
556, 558, 561, 562, 568, 571, 581, 583, 584 
585, 586, 591, 594, 596, 597, 598, 599, 607 
610, 611, 615, 616, 617, 618, 619, 620, 621 
622, 623, 624, 625, 626, 627, 629, 630, 631 
634, 636, 637, 638, 639, 640, 641, 642, 643 
644, 645, 646, 647, 648, 649, 650, 651, 652 
653, 654, 65s, 656, 657, 658, 659, 660, 661 
662, 663. 

"Bacon Journal, The," 636. 

Bacon, Mathew, 627. 

Bacon, Sir Nicholas, 303, 304, 309, 312, 329, 
409, 443, 512, 518, 556, 557, 598, 599, 615, 
616. 

Bacon, Roger, 302, 303, 340, 428. 

Bacon Society, The, 583, 636, 658. 

Bacon, T., 636. 

"Baconiana," 636. 

"Baconian Facts," 636. 

Baconian Heresy, xxvii. 

Baconians, xxvii, 90, 92, 118, 128, 136, 154, 
262, 278, 286, 293, 296, 505, 549, 550, S73, 



, 389, 503. 584, 



578, 579, 581, 582, 649, 652, 653, 654, 656, 

658, 659, 660, 662, 663. 
Bahamas, the, 552. 

Baif, -; , 307. 

Bale, Bishop John, 139. 
Ball, B.W., 654. 
Baltic Sea, 494. 
Baltimore, Lord, 534. 
Bank's horse, 131. 
Banks, Robert, 636. 
Banquo, 514. 
Bantam, 551. 
Barbados, 552. 
Barclay, John, II, 

585. 

Barker, Robert, 2. 
Barlow, William, 601, 604. 
Barnes, Barnaby, 68. 
Barrett, L., 654. 
Barrett, T. S., 636. 

Barry, Mrs. , 230. 

"Bartholomew Fair," 116. 

Batchelor, H. Crouch, 636. 

Bates, G. F., 90, 91. 

Baudoin, Jean, 415, 424. 

Baxter, James Phinney, 320, 444, 544' 

Bayley, Harold, 408, 409, 634, 636. 

Baylis, S. M., 636. 

Baynes, , 31. 

Beale, , xxiii. 

Beard, C, 408. 

Beaumont, Francis, 22, 94, 389. 

Becker, Dr. , 243. 

Beeching, H. C, 636, 654. 
Beer, T. H. de, 654. 
Beerbohm, M., 636. 
Beethoven, Ludwig van, 291. 
Begley, W., 519, 583, 584, 636. 
Beisley, S., 29. 
Bell, John W., 654. 
Belleau, Remy, 87. 
Belvoir Castle, 232, 626, 628. 
Benevolo, 457. 
Benjamin, Judah P., 250. 
Benton, M. B., 654. 
Bermudas, the, 625. 

Bertillon, , 249. 

Betterton, Thomas, 230. 

Beziers, 407. 

Bible, the, 20, 21, 51. 

Bickell, Mr. , 233, 634. 

Bickley, F. B., 644. 

Bicknell, George A., 654. 

Bidford, 45. 

"Biform Figure of Nature," 625. 

Birch, Thomas, 311, 510, 521, 601. 

Birmingham Central Literary Association, 

654. 
Birrell, A., 655. 

"Birth of Merlin, The," III, 178. 
Bishopton, 57. 

Bismarck, Prince Otto E. L., 63. 
Black, H., 655. 



668 



INDEX 



Black, Will., i8i, 182, 183, 184. 

Bleibtreu, K., 636. 

Blomberg, Adelheid Maria von, 636, 655. 

Blount, Edward, 109, 597. 

Blount family, the, 503. 

Boaden, James, 226, 227, 229, 230, 236. 

Boas, Frederick S., 130, 137, 138, 139, 485. 

Boccaccio, Giovanni, 430. 

Bodine, John, 388, 389. 

Bodleian Library, The, 311, 634. 

Bodley, Sir Thomas, 311. 

Boener, Peter, xxii, 297, 318, 338, 349, 381, 

629. 
Bogholm, N., 637. 
Bohemia, 493, 494, 495, 496, 497. 
Bohemia, King of, 494. 
Bohemia, Queen of, 496, 497. 
Bohn, Henry H., 636. 
Bohtlingk, A., 655. 
Boleyn, Anne, 527. 
Bolingbroke, Lord, 548. 
Bolton, Charles K., 634. 
Bompas, George C. 581, 582, 583, 637. 

Bonitus, , 416. 

Books, number of in Stratford, 42, 51, 61, 

158. 
Booth, Ben Haworth, 637. 
Booth, William Stone, 249, 250, 432, 433, 

434, 634, 637, 658. 
Bordeaux, 318, 421. 
Bordeaux, Commission des Archives Muni- 

cipales, 422. 
Bormann, August Edwin, 361, 637, 655. 
Bormann, Edwin, 361, 637,655. 
Bostelman, Lewis F., 655. 
Boston Athenaeum, 634. 
Boston Public Library, 406, 634. 
Boswell, Sir William, 357, 358. 
Bosworth, Battle of, 33, 196. 
Bourne, G. H. P., 638. 
Bowditch, Charles P., 419, 420, 429, 638. 
Boydell, John, 229. 
Boyle, Elizabeth, 453. 
Boyle, P. U., 655. 
Boyle, Sir Richard, 453, 638. 
Bradford, A. B., 655. 
Bradley, Isaac, 655. 
Brandes, Georg, xxvii, 62, 70, 81, 150, 151, 

179, 184, 185, 567, 655. 
Brausewetter, Artur, 655. 
Brantford, 10. 
Bray, Charles, 638. 
Bretagne, 218. 
Brewster, Sir David, 300. 
Brien, Murrogh O., 453, 454. 
Bridges, Sir E., 120. 
Bright, T., 487, 488, 554. 

Bringern, , 395, 396. 

Briquet, C. M., 408. 
Broadbrim, 655. 
Brooke, Robert, 10. 
Brown, Carlton, 430, 431, 480. 
Browne, , 505. 



Browne, Henry Janvrin, 638. 

Browning, Robert, 62. 

Bruce, John, 7, 607, 608, 609. 

Brunswick-Lunaeberg, Duke of, see Augus- 
tus 2d. 

Bruno, Giordano, 327, 342, 343. 

Brutus, 171, 172, 174. 

Bryan, Murrough O., 454. 

Bryde, — ; , 288. 

Buccellati, Dr. Antonio, 638. 

Buchanan, George, 514. 

Bucke, Richard Maurice, 638, 655. 

Buckingham, Duke of, see Villiers, George. 

Buckingham, Lady, see Villiers, Katherine. 

Bucks County, 509. 

Budeus, William, 388, 389. 

Buffone, Carlo, 78. 

Bulgakov, O., 655. 

Bull, John, 655. 

Bullen, A. H., 469, 470, 478. 

Bulloch, John, 638. 

"Bunglers in Criticism," 62. 

Bunten, Mrs. A. Chambers, 638. 

Burbage, Cuthbert, 94. 

Burbage, James, 50, 52, 65, 235, 617. 

Burbage, Richard, 52, 55, 82, 84, 95, 105, 
155, 231, 232, 233, 618, 620, 626, 628. 

Burbage's Company, 53, 618. 

Burbages, The, 52, Sd, 112, 127. 

Burger, C. P., Jr., 655. 

Burghley, Lady, see Cecil, Mildred. 

Burghley, Lord, see Cecil, William. 

Burghley Papers, 611. 

Burgoyne, F. J., 638. 

Burgundy, Duke of, 490, 491. 

Burgundy, Mary of, 495. 

Burleigh, , 550, 551. 

Burnham, Alice, 322. 

Burnley, 438. 

Burns, Robert, 63, 158. 

Burr, W. H., 638. 

Burrage, Champlin, 634. 

Burton, Robert, 438, 486, 488, 527, 554, 

583- 
Bushell, Thomas, xxii, 58, 318, 336, 337, 

484, 629, 638. 
Butterfield, W. A., 250. 

C, R. C, 656. 
Cabot, Samuel, 419. 
Cadiz Expedition, 606. 

Cadurcis, , xxiv. 

Caernarvon, Marquis of, 230. 
Calais, 306. 
Caldecott, H. S., 638. 
Caldwell, George S., 638. 
Calf of Man, Island of, 336. 
Calkins, E. A., 656. 
Calthrop, Annette, 645. 
Calvert, A. F., 638. 
Camber, 171. 

Cambridge, (td, 79, 103, 305, 331, 342, 343, 
448, 457, 458, 488, 508, 509, 597, 634. 



669 



INDEX 



Cambridge, Benet College, 480. 
Cambridge, Christ Church, 486. 
Cambridge, Magdalen College, 13, 612. 
Cambridge, Pembroke Hall, 441. 
Cambridge, St. John's College, 331, 388, 

479-. 
Cambridge students, 83, 84. 
Cambridge, Trinity College, 305, 331. 
Cambridge University, 121, 441, 442, 626. 
Camden, William, 7, 11, 13, 420, 428, 445, 

556, 592, 596, 599, 600, 601, 605. 
Campbell, Lord John, 21, 22, 24, 31, 297, 

319, 320, 323, 324, 325, 326, 327, 328, 329, 
^ 330, 332, 335, 345, 349, 3Si, 352, 620. 
Candler, H., 656. 
Canterbury, 47, 480, 515. 
Cantor, Prof. G., xxviii, 639. 
Capell, Edward, 44, 130, 208, 209, 229, 230. 
Cap of Maintenance, The, 421. 
"Cardenio," iii. 
Carew Papers, 440, 454. 
Carey, see Cary. 
Carinthia, 494, 495. 
Carleton, Sir Dudley, 612. 
Carlyle, Thomas, 361, 362. 
Carniola, 495. 
Carrier, Moritz, 342. 
Carter, Thomas, 20, 639. 
Cartier, Jacques, 225. 

Cartwright, , 233. 

Carus, P., 656. 

Cary, Carey, Sir Ed., 597, 599. 

Cary, Sir Robert, 612. 

Cary, Thomas, 389. 

Casaubon, Isaac, 388, 389. 

Cassel, 392. 

Castile, 495. 

Castle, Edward J., 490, 639, 656. 

Castle, William, 39, 40, 45. 

Caswell, J. B., 639. 

Catesby, , 155. 

Cathari, the, 406. 

Catherine de Medici, 590. 

Cattell, Charles Cockbill, 635, 639. 

Catulus, 130. 

Caverly Hall, 176. 

Cazauran, A. R., 656. 

Cecil, Mildred, Lady Burghley, 3 10, 488, 

618, 621. 
Cecil, Robert, 557. 
Cecil, William, Lord Burghley, 5, 6, 8, 9, 10, 

12, 309, 310, 311, 312, 314, 315, 316, 317, 

321, 334, 337, 458, 550, 551, 597, 598, 599, 

600, 601, 602, 603, 604, 605, 606, 607. 
Cecils, the, 597. 
"Cerimon," 639. 
"Certain Considerations Touching the 

Pacification of the Church," 623. 
Chalmers, George, 254. 
Chamberlain, John, 453. 

Chambers, , 470, 477. 

Chandas family, the, 228, 229. 
Charges, Sir Thomas, 230. 



Charlecot, 43. 

Charles I of England, 225, 450, 500, 504, 
588,613. 

Charles H of England, 55, 1 11, 230,442. 

Charles IV of Bohemia, 496. 

Charles V of Germany, 495. 

Chartley, 594. 

Chatterton, Thomas, 267. 

Chaucer, Geoffrey, 14, 129, 443. 

Chernigovetz, 0., 639. 

Cheshire, 34. 

Chester, Col. Joseph L., 116, 484. 

Chester, Robert, 431. 

Chesterton, G. K., 656. 

Chettle, Henry, 80, 84. 

Chiarini, Giuseppe, 639. 

China, xxvii. 

Chips, , 488. 

Chooyko, B., 656. 

Chubb, E. W., 656. 

Church, Rev. R. W., 19, 346, 639. 

Churcher, William Henry, 639. 

Churchill, , 328. 

Cibber, Colley, 656. 

Cibber, Theophilus, 50. 

Cicero, 75,. 346, 533, 577, 578, 579- 

Ciphers, Cipher Story, xxviii, 163, 413, 419, 
521, 530, 532, 533, 534, 536, 544, 547, 548, 
549, 551, 552, 553, 554, 555, 558, 559, 561, 
562, 564, 567, 568, 571, 572, 573, 574, 577, 
579, 580, 581, 582, 583, 609, 611, 614, 634, 
640, 641, 645, 646, 647, 652, 655, 656, 657, 
659, 660, 662, 663, 664. 

Citeaux, the abbot of, 407. 

Claredon, 160. 

Clarendon, Edward Hyde, Earl of, 612. 

Clark, Andrew, 39. 

Clark, Edward Gordon, 639, 655, 656. 

Clark, H. A., 137. 

Clarke, Sir Edward, 108. 

Clarke, J. F., 656. 

Clarke, Mary Cowden, 511, 583. 

Clayton, John, 57, 622. 

Celia, , 21, 90, 156, 159, 292, 296. 

Clemens, S. L., 54, 639. 

Clifford, Ann, 444. 

Clopton, Sir Hugh, 262. 

Close, R. C, 656. 

Close Rolls, The, 255. 

Cochin, Henry, 656. 

Codyre, J. L., 656. 

"Cogitations de Natura Rerum," 500. 

Coke, Sir Edmund, 313, 316, 322, 323, 324, 
328, 329, 332. 

Coleridge, Samuel Taylor, xxiv, 1 3 2, 133, 
137, 160, 185, 567. 

Colin, see Spenser, Edmund. 

Collier, J. Payne, 64, 107, 1 16, 119, 126, 133, 
134, 135, 146, 160, 208, 439, 440. 

Collins, J. Churton, xxvii, 31, 41, 42, 99, 
119, 128, 158, 492, 534, 620, 639, 650. 

Collins, Francis, 22, 277, 279, 288, 292. 

Cologne, Virgins of, 266. 



670 



INDEX 



Colomb, Colonel, 639. 

"Colours of Good and Evil," 620. 

Combe estate, 155, 625. 

Combe, John A., 626. 

Combe, William, 45, 58. 

"Comedy of Errors, The," 95, 104, 127, 

129, 130, 131, 617. 
"Common Conditions," 14. 
"Complaynt of Scotland," 429. 
"Complaints," 574. 
"Comus," 170, 353, 354. 
"Concealed Poet, A," 30. 
Condell, Henry, 52, 53, 74, 99, 100, lOi, 

102, 103, no, 113, 144, 185, 222, 561. 
"Confessio Amantis," 135. 
Congreve, William, 160. 
"Contention, The," 98, 143, 146, 147, 148, 

412, 616. 
Conway, Moncure D., 639. 
Cooke, Sir Anthony, 304, 511. 
Copenhagen Bibliothek, 634. 
Copernicus, 302, 342, 343. 
Corbett, F. Saint-John, 656. 
Cork County, 452, 461. 
"Coriolanus," 104. 
"Cornelia," 485. 
Cornwall, Duchy of, 322. 
Cotes, Thomas, 536. 
Cotgrave, J., 639. 
Courthope, W. J., 147, 148. 
Courtneys, Nicholas, 462. 
Coverly, Sir Richard, 229. 
Cowper, William, 586. 
Cowrte, Richard, 38. 
Cox, S. A., 639. 
Coxe, John Redman, 24. 
Cranmer, George, 89. 
Crawford, Charles, 371, 640. 
Crecy, Battle of, 218. 
Creon, 186, 188. 
Crispinus, 81. 

Cromwell, Oliver, 225, 661. 
Cromwell, Lord Thomas, 167, 168, 169. 
Crosby, Ernest, 63. 
Crosby, Joseph, 656. 
Cryptograms, 411, 418, 647, 655, 661. 
Cryptographers, 418. 
Cuife, Henry, xxiii. 
Cunningham, Granville C, 460, 584, 634, 

640. 
Cunningham, Peter, 106, 240. 
Cutting Ball, 479. 
"Cymbeline," 21, 104, 625. 

Dall, Caroline H., 640. 

Dana, , xxvi. 

Dante, 250, 357. 
Danvers, Sir John, 7. 

Darcy, , 600. 

Darwin, Charles R., 663. 

D'Aubigne , 307. 

D'Avenant, John, 55. 

D'Avenant, Sir William, 55, 69, 230, 232, 389. 



Davenport, Rob., in. 

David, King of Scotland, 210. 

"David and Bethsabe," 475. 

Davidson, Prof. , 656. 

Davidson, T., 656. 

Davies, Sir John, 318, 346, 363, 377, 43°, 
506, 622, 628. 

Davies, Rev. Richard, 40. 

Davis, , 608. 

Davis, C. K., 640. 

Davison, William, 550, 551, 597, 606. 

Dawbarn, C. J. C, 640. 

Dawson, E. A., 640. 

"De Augmentis," 76, 341, 361, 498, 515, 
522, 530, 533, 544, 561, 577, 578, 581. 

Dekker, Thomas, 16, 80, 121, 149. 

Delius, Nicholas, 617, 618, 623. 

Demblon, Celestin, 640, 656. 

Democritus Jr., 486. 

Denham, Edward, 634. 

Denmark, 120, 121, 123. 

"Dense and Rare," 489, 625. 

De Peyster, J. W., 640, 646. 

Deptford, 481, 

Derby, 218. 

Derbyshire, 234. 

Descartes, Rene, 300. 

Desmond, Sir John, 461. 

Devereux family, the, 594, 609. 

Devereux, Lady Frances, 592, 594, 596, 
612, 613. 

Devereux, Robert, Earl of Essex, 68, 89 
155, 167, 318, 319, 320, 322, 333, 334: 
338, 372, 373, 374, 375, 44i, 442, 443, 455 
519, 521, 525, 556, 559, 560, 561, 566, 568 
596, 597, 598, 599, 600, 601, 602, 603, 604 
605, 606, 607, 608, 609, 610, 611, 612, 613 
614, 618, 619, 621, 622, 646. 

Devereux, Walter, 556, 594, 598. 

Devereux, Walter Bouchier, 594, 610. 

"Device of an Indian Prince," 619. 

Devil in Music, The, 501. 

Devizes, 10. 

Devonshire, xx. 

D'Ewes, Sir Symonds, 629. 

Dicke, W. R., 610. 

Dickens, Charles, xxv, xxviii, 664. 

Dickens's Novels, 656. 

Dido, 506. 

"Dido," 468. 

Digges, Leonard, 92, 136, 536, 539, 542, 581. 

Dingley, Thomas, 442,445, 446. 

Diocletian, 406. 

Disraeli, Benjamin, xxiv, xxviii. 

Dixon, T.S.E., 640, 657. 

Dixon, W. Hepworth, 298. 

Donne, Dr. John, 89. 

Donnelly, Ignatius, 253, 522, 640, 645, 646, 
647, 651, 653, 654, 655, 656, 657, 659, 661, 
662, 663, 664. 

Doran, John, 511. 

Dorman, Jane, see Feria, Jane Dormer, 
Duchess of. 



671 



INDEX 



Dorset, Countess of, 443, 444. 

"Double Falsehood, The," in. 

Douse, T. Le M., 640. 

Dowdell, John, 40. 

Dowden, Edward, 63, 128, 463, 657. 

Dowe, Anna, 10. 

Dowling, R., 640. 

Downing, Charles, 20, 21. 

Down ton, Thomas, 167. 

Doyle, J. T., 657. 

Drake, Sir Francis, xx, 9, 300. 

Di;ake, Dr. Nathan, 146, 147. 

Drayton, 228. 

Drayton, Michael, 16, 40, 49, 66, 94, 107, 

138, 167, 389. 
"Dreams, My," 459. 
"Dr. Faustus," see "Faustus." 
Droeshout, Martin, 72, 73, 226, 228, 229, 

231, 234, 236, 241, 248, 249, 250, 251, 277, 

308. 
Drummond, William, 71, 76, 89, 493. 
Drury, Sir William, 454. 
Dryden, John, 135, 230, 231, 355. 
Dryerre, H., 657. 

Du Bartus, Salustirus, 74, 306, 307. 
Du Bellay, Joachim, 307. 
Dublin, Rolls Office, 460. 
Dudley, Lord Robert, Earl of Leicester, 4, 

8, 9, 10, II, 312, 314, 318, 425, 426, 440, 

445, 459, 550, 551, 553, 554, 555, 557, 562, 

566, 567, 568, 569, 570, 593, 594, 595, 596, 

597, 598, 610, 611. 
Dugdale, Sir William, 246, 247, 248, 252. 
Duggan, J., 640. 

Diihring, , 298, 340. 

"Duke Humphrey," iii. 

Dulwich Collection, 232. 

Dulwich College, 75, 106, 135, 233,634. 

Duncie, Edw., 440. 

Duyckinck, George Long, 140. 

Dyce, Alexander, 71, 175, 469, 479, 482, 548. 

Dysart, Earl, 612. 

E., C, 30. 

Earldom, , 234. 

East India Company, 551. 

East Smithfield, 438. 

"Ebb and Flow of the Sea, The," 489, 499, 

625. 

Ebsworth, , 89. 

"Eclogues," 544, 561. 

Edinburgh, 71. 

"Edward I," 118, 195. 

Edward II, King of England, 197, 198, 199, 

2CO, 201, 202, 203, 204, 205, 206. 
"Edward II," 144, 145, 195, 196, 207, 208, 

209, 222. 
Edward III, King of England, 209, 210, 211, 

212, 213, 215, 216, 217, 218, 221. 
"Edward III," 178, 195, 208, 209, 222, 566, 

568. 
"Edward IV," 195, 209. 
Edward VI, King of England, 2, 3, 304, 589. 



Edward, Prince, 511. 

Edward, the Black Prince, 568. 

Edwards, Richard, 478. 

Edwards, W. H., 640. 

Egerton, Sir Philip de Malpas Grey, 461. 

Egerton, Sir Thomas, 324, 626. 

Elgin, Lord of, 29. 

Eliot, John, 336. 

Elizabeth, Princess, 511. 

Elizabeth, Queen, xxi, i, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10, 
II, 12, 13, 14, 15, 47, 55, 63, 119, 150, 154, 
208, 236, 286, 296, 301, 304, 305, 309, 3 10, 
311, 312,313, 315, 316, 318, 319, 320, 321, 
332, 333. 371, 372, 373, 374, 375, 376, 379, 
392, 394, 397, 408, 409, 411, 421, 425, 426, 
430, 438, 450, 451, 455, 458, 460, 461, 462, 
470, 478, 480, 506, 512, 519, 521, 523, 551, 
553, 554, 556, 557, 560, 561, 562, 566, 567, 
568, 569, 570, 571, 573, 574, 586, 587, 588, 
591, 594, 596, 597, 598, 599, 601, 603, 606, 
607, 608, 609, 610, 61 1, 6x2, 613, 616, 618, 
619, 620, 621, 622, 629, 642. 

Elizabeth's ring, 599, 611, 612, 613, 614. 

Ellacombe, Henry Nicholson, 29. 

EUacombe, Henry N., 29. 

Ellesmere, Lord, 649. 

Elson, Louis C, 29. 

Ely House, 238. 

Elze, Karl,xxvii, 81, 116, 117, 161,257,258, 
493, 641, 657. 

Emblems, 410, 415, 416, 630. 

Emelia, 187, 189, 190, 191, 193, 195. 

Emerson, J. M., 640. 

Emerson, Ralph Waldo, xxiv, 348. 

Empedocles, xxv. 

Ems, 430. 

"Eneid," 561. 

Engel, Dr. Eduard, xxvii, 639, 641. 

England, xx, xxi, xxii, xxvi, i, 4, 5, 10, 17, 
33,41, 61,65, 83, 147, 165, 169, 196, 197, 
204, 206, 225, 236, 254, 299, 307, 308, 310, 
312,317,319,321,327,332,344,345,349, 
352, 358, 392, 395, 398, 399, 407, 408, 419, 
425, 426, 439, 447, 453, 460, 508, 512, 519, 
534, 550, 552, 560, 588, 596, 607, 608, 617, 
623, 627, 634. 

"English Critic, An," 635. 

English Ronsard, The, 17. 

"English Solomon," the, 13. 

"English Terence, Our," 346. 

"Epithalamion," 449, 451, 452. 

Erasmus, Desiderius, 388, 389. 

Escurial, the Ogre, xx. 

Essays, Bacon's, 352, 624, 630. 

Essex County, 479. 

Essex, Earl of, see Devereux, Robert, Earl 
of Essex. 

Essex, Lady, see Devereux, Lady Frances. 

Essex Rebellion, 167, 319, 374, 560. 

Essex's Reign, 599, 611, 612, 613, 614. 

Este, Beatrice d', 497. 

Estrilda, 173, 174. 

Eton, 331. 



672 



INDEX 



"Euphues,"The, 15,66. 
"Eurialus and Lucretia," III. 
Eusebius, 430. 

Evans, , 52, 53. 

"Every Man in His Humour," 621. 
"Every Man out of His Humour," TJ. 
Ewing, N. H., 657. 

"Experiments in Consort touching Music, 
500. 

F., O., 641. 

"Faerie Queene, The," 16, 344, 411, 427, 442, 
448, 450, 454, 455, 457, 459, 464, 467, 509, 

559-. 

Faerni, Gabriel, 503. 

"Fair Em," III, 178. 

"Famous Victories of Henry Fift, The," 
140, 141, 143, 164. 

"Farewell to Folly," 79. 

Farmer, Dr. Richard, 144, 167, 176. 

Farquhar, A. B., 657. 

Farrara, 497. 

"Faustus," 399, 468, 482, 484. 

Fearon, Francis, 641. 

"Felix and Philomena," 119. 

Felton, S., 228, 229. 

Ferdinand I, of Austria, 495, 496. 

Ferdinand, King of Spain, 527, 528. 

Feria, Count de, 3, 8. 

Feria, Jane Dormer, Duchess of, 3, 4. 

Fermoy, Barony of, 461. 

"Ferrex and Porrex," 14. 

Fest, Joseph, 641. 

Field, B. Rush, 24. 

Fischer, E., 641. 

Fischer, Dr. Kuno, 345, 347. 

Fiske, Gertrude Horsford, 580, 641. 

Fiske, John, 657. 

Fitton, Mary, 150, 151, 153, 378, 629. 

Flanders, 204, 21S. 

Flavina, 187. 

Fleay, Frederic Gard, 81, 84, 85, 127, 168, 
170, 174, 17s,. 177, 185, 195- 

Fleetwood, William, 11. 

Fletcher, John, 16, 94, 184, 185, 389. 

Flexner, A., 657. 

Florence, 242, 505. 

Florence, Biblioteca Nazionale, 634. 

Florie, John, 68, 271, 421, 518. 

Flowerdale, , 177, 178. 

Flowerdale, Mathew, 177, 178. 

Fludd, Robert, 395. 

Foard, J. T., 641. 

Folios(Shakespeare's),xxvi,xxix, 50, 90,100, 
lOi, 102, 103, 104, 105, 106, 107, 108, 109, 
no. III, 112, 113, 118, 124, 126, 129, 132, 
137, 138, 142, 143, 144, 163, 174, 178, 184, 
196, 208, 209, 222, 224, 226, 243, 245, 249, 
251,276, 358,363,410,411,412, 418,419, 
464,465,483,489, 492,498, 502,514, 518, 
534. 536, 538. 539, 544> 548, 561, 562, 565, 
566, 575, 576, 577, 581, 583, 584, 623, 627, 
638, 645. 



Folios (Spenser's), 88, 441, 442, 443, 444, 

445, 446, 456, 464, 467, 559- 
Follett, O., 641. 
"Forest of Arden, The," 96. 
Fotheringay Castle, 549. 
Foster, Joseph, 479. 
Fowler, Thomas, 298, 320, 344, 350. 
France, xxi, 5, 70, 130, 132, 218, 305, 307, 

308,309,313,345,439,459,491, 514, 529, 

547, 553, 558, 588, 591, 615, 617. 
France, King of, 490, 491, 602. 
Francis I, 407. 
Frankfort, 395, 398. 
Franklin, 179, 180, 183. 
Freemasons, Freemasonry, 392, 393, 401. 
"French Academic," 630. 
French Academy, 506. 
Frey, Albert R., 657. 
Friesen, Baron H. von, 641. 
Frobisher, Sir Martin, xx. 
Frothingham, O. B., 657. 
Froude, James Anthony, 4, 8, 9, 549, 550. 
Fuller, E., 657. 
Fuller, Thomas, 44, 45, 297, 333, 334, 458, 

460, 629. 
Fulmer, Rev. William, 40. 
Furness, Horace Howard, 106, 114, 124, 

158, 159, 161, 162, 222, 247, 265. 
Furness Gloves, 162, 247, 264, 265. 
Furness, William H., xxiv. 
Furnivall, Frederick J., xxvii, 19, 31, lOO, 117, 

122, 128, 132, 209, 519, 617, 622, 627, 641, 

645, 657- 

Galilean Marriage, the, 266. 

Galileo, 302, 340, 341. 

"Gallery Critic," 657. 

Gallup, Mrs. Elizabeth Wells, 530, 534, 

536, 538, 539, 542, 544, 547, 548, 549, 552, 

574, 575, 576, 579, 580, 581, 582, 583, 634, 

641, 656, 657, 659. 

Galsworthy, Mr. , 93, 94. 

Gardiner, Samuel Rawson, 321. 
Gardiner, Stephen, 168, 169. 

Gardner, , 328. 

Garner, Richard, 485. 

Garnett, Richard, 297, 308, 331, 641. 

Garrick, David, 113, 236, 264, 265. 

Garrick Jubilee, 236, 256, 260, 265, 266. 

Gascoigne, George, xx. 

Gaveston, 196, 197, 198, 201, 202, 203. 

Gawdy, Lady, 443. 

Genee, R., 641. 

Genoa, 505. 

Geneva, Giovanni de, 429. 

"George a Greene," iii, 178. 

German Shakespeare Society, 159. 

Germany, 299, 408. 

Germany, King of, 494. 

Gervais, Francis P., 270, 271, 272, 274, 294, 

641. 
Gervinus, G. G., xxv, xxviii, 125, 127, 130, 

131, 132,299, 300, 347. 



673 



INDEX 



Gifford, William, 71, 75, 136. 

Gilbert, Sir Humphrey, xx. 

Gilbert, William, 340, 341. 

Gilmore, J. H., 657. 

Giovio, Paolo, 503. 

Gladstone, William Ewart, xxviii, 656. 

Goadby, Edwin, 15, 36, 61. 

Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von, 291. 

Goodale, George P., 525. 

"Good Queen Bess," see Elizabeth, Queen. 

"Gorboduc," 161. 

Gorges family, the, 225. 

Gorges, Sir Ferdinando, 224, 320, 323. 

Gorhambury, 370, 616. 

Gottfried of Strasburg, 430. 

Gournay Montaigne, the, 422. 

Gower, John, 135. 

Gower, Lord Ronald Southerland, 248. 

Grafton, Duke of, 235. 

Grammaticus, Saxo, 120. 

Grandgent, Charles H., 21. 

Granger, Rev. J., 231, 232. 

Gravelot, , 247. 

Gray, Joseph William, 38, 46. 

Gray, Robert, 655. 

Great Banda, Island of, 551. 

Great Britain, 514. 

"Greatest Birth of Time, The," 19, 31, 32, 
616. 

Greece, xxv, 75, 300. 

Green, , 342. 

Green, , diarist, 626. 

Green, Henry, 503, 630. 

Green, J. R., 258, 426, 334, 335, 426. 

Green, Mrs. J. R., 36, 335. 

Green, Thomas, 52, 58. 

Greene, Rev. Joseph, 288. 

Greene, Robert, 16, 61, 66, 79, 80, 84, 90, 
120, 125, 126, 137, 139, 140, 143, 146, 147, 
364, 371, 438, 463, 464, 465, 466, 468, 469, 
479, 480, 481, 482, 496, 507, 522, 523, 524, 
536, 553- 554, 555, 560, 562, 583, 618, 628, 
656. _ 

Greenwich, 119. 

Greenwood, George, 654. 

Greenwood, G. G., 641, 657, 659. 

Greville, , xxiii. 

Grey, Lady Jane, 4. 569. 

Grey, William Lord, 453, 455, 460, 461, 
462. 

Grieg, W. W., 658. 

Grignion, , 247. 

Grinda', Archbishop Edmund, 12. 

"Groatsworth of Wit," 80. 

Grosart, Dr. Alexander B., 438, 439, 449, 

^ 452,453,464, 46s, 479, 480- 
Grotius, Hugo, 388, 389, 430. 
Gruter, Isaac, 357, 358, 359. 
Guendollne, 171, 173, 174. 
Guide d'Arezzo, 502. 
Guise, Duke de, 319. 
Gunpowder, 340. 
Gurney, 207. 



Guyenne, 209. 
Guzman, Francisco, 503. 

H., Mr. W., 94, 148, 552. 

Haan, F. de, 658. 

Hacket, , 357. 

Hacket, Marian, 484. 

Hackett, J. H., 658. 

Haefker, H., 642. 

Hague, Biblioteek, 634. 

Hakluyt, Richard, 440, 552. 

Hales, Prof. J. W., 458, 461. 

Hall, Edward, 131. 

Hall, Dr. John, 25, 624. 

Hall, Robert, 642. 

Hallam, Henry, 16, 117, 134, 146, 339, 586. 

Halliwell-Phillips, J. O., 15, 17, 33, 37, 41, 
42, 44, 48, 50, 52, 53, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60, 69, 
73, 81, 91, 102, 105, 106, III, 112, 115, 
120, 133, 136, 138, 14s, 148, 154, 155, 156, 
163, 175, 184, 195, 208, 209, 222, 235, 244, 
253, 254, 256, 258, 259, 260, 261, 262, 265, 
269, 271, 272, 277, 281, 283, 616, 617, 621, 
625, 626, 627, 628. 

Halsall, Cuthbert, 431. 

Halsall, Dorothy Cuthbert, 431. 

Ham House, 612. 

"Hamlet," xxi, 25, 43, 82, 97, 98, 99, 104, 
113, 118, 120, 121, 122, 123, 124, 125, 127, 
137, 145, 149, 151, 152, 159, 163, 267, 
296, 300, 455, 469, 497, 498, 499, 500, 512, 
513, 617, 622, 628, 647. 

Hampton Court, 225. 

Hand, Charles R., 642. 

Hanmer, , 120, 160, 161, 247. 

Hapsburg, 494, 495. 

Harding, E., 642. 

Harding, James, 462. 

Hardwick Papers, 611. 

Harrington, Sir John, 9, 55, 156. 

Harris, Frank, 151, 152, 156, 159, 642. 

Hart, Joseph C., xxiv, 642, 

Hart, William, 378. 

Harvard president, a, 114. 

Harvey, Gabriel, 15, 27, 28, I2I, 132, 3 10, 
313,456,457,458,459,657. 

Harvey, William, 378. 

Harvey, Dr. William, 339. 

Harwood, H. H., 642. 

Hatfield House, 609. 

Hathaway, Anne, 46, 47, 241, 264, 267, 616. 

Hathaway, Jone, 241. 

Hathaway, Richard, 42, 167, 241. 

Hathaway, William, 378. 

Haughton, William, 126. 

Hauptvogle, F., 642. 

Hawkins, Thomas, 477. 

Hawthorne, Nathaniel, xxv, xxviii, 635, 658. 

Hay ward, Sir John, 7, 374, 375, 376, 620, 
642. 

Haynes, Samuel, 611. 

Haywood, Thomas, 389. 

Hazard, Ebenezer, 552. 



674 



INDEX 



Hazlitt, William, 109, 176, 399, 

Hearne, Thomas, 488, 605. 

"Heat and Cold," 489, 625. 

Heckthorne, C. W., 393, 408. 

Hector, 506. 

Heine, Heinrich, 21. 

Heinsius, Daniel, 388, 389. 

Helmingham, 612. 

Helmingham Manuscript, 612. 

Heminge, John, 52, 53, 74, 99, 100, loi, 102, 

103, 1 10, 1 13 , 144, 14s, 185, 222, 561. 
Henderson, William, 642. 
"Henry First and Second," iii. 
"Henry I," 195. 
"Henry H," 195. 
Henry HI, King of England, 195. 
Henry HI, King of France, 305, 587, 591. 
Henry IV, King of England, 7, 455. 
"Henry IV," 56, 97, 98, 104, 140, 141, 142, 

164,374, 375,518, 565,620. 
Henry IV, King of France, 130, 586, 587, 

588. 
Henry V, King of England, 568. 
"Henry V," 97, 98, 103, 104, 140, 141, 142, 

143, 146, 149, 163, 616, 622. 
Henry VI, King of England, 600, 
"Henry VI," 50, 51, 80, 98, 104, 141, 144, 

14s, 146, 147, 208, 308, 463, 481, 490, 502, 

507, 560, 616, 618, 619, 620. 
Henry VII, King of England, 195, 196, 429. 
"Henry VII," 339, 527, 528, 555, 566, 568, 

571,583- 
Henry VIII, King of England, I, 5, 97, 131, 

304,511,513,570. 
"Henry VIII," 105, 163, 184, 185, 195, 196, 

338, 508, 516, 527, 528, 625, 662, 663. 
Henry of Navarre, 130. 
Henslowe, Philip, 50, 75, 100, 105, 106, 107, 

108, 114, 119, 121, 122, 125, 127, 141, 143, 

145, 155, 167. 
Henslowe's Actors, 70, 
Herbert, F. A., 644. 
Herbert, George, 354. 
Herbert, Philip, Earl of Montgomery, 625. 
Herbert, William, Earl of Pembroke, 9, 52, 

94, 150, 378, 552, 624. 
Hereford, C. H., 117, 133. 
Herefordshire, 594. 
Hertzberg, W. A. B., 116. 
Heydon, John, 399, 400, 401, 402, 403. 
Heylin, Peter, 325. 
Heywood, John, 304, 511, 512, 513. 
Heywood, Thomas, xxiii, 16, 90, 91, 94, 

167, 175, 176, 196. 
Higgins, Charles H., 642, 658. 
Higginson, Thomas Wentworth, 592. 
High Wycombe, 50. 
Hildreth, C, 658. 

Hillard, , 308. 

Hippolyta, 186, 187, 189, 193. 

"Historic of Errors, The," 130. 

"History of Henry the Seventh, The," 420, 

423, 424- 



"History of King Stephen, The," iii. 
"History of the Winds, The," 489, 

625. 
Hitchcock, E. A., 642. 
Hobbs, Thomas, 318, 331, 363. 
Hodgson, Sir A., 658. 
Holborn, 29. 

Holder, , 30, 236, 240, 241. 

Holinshed, Raphael, 140, 141, 179, 514. 

HoU, , 642. 

Holland, 357, 425. 

Holmes, George F., 658. 

Holmes, Oliver Wendell, xxviii. 

Holmes, Nathaniel, xxv, xxvi, xxviii, 31, 

36, 639, 642, 658, 662. 
Holmesworth, Leonard, 29. 
Holzer, Gustave, 643, 658. 
Homer, 127, 256, 306, 544, 547, 55b, 

Honorificabilitudino, 373, 377, 428, 429. 

Honthumb, G. N., 658. 

Hookham, G., 658. 

Hooker, Richard, 89. 

Hooper, H., 658. 

Hope, Anthony, 496. 

Hopkins, Matthew, 13. 

Horace, 75, 89, 130. 

Horneby, John, 57. 

Hosmer, H. L., 643. 

Howard, Catherine, Countess of Notting- 
ham, 612, 613. 

Howard, Charles, Earl of Nottingham, 606, 
613. 

Howard, Henry, Earl of Surrey, 352. 

Howell, James, 592, 612. 

Hubrecht, A. W., 658. 

Hudson, Rev. Henry N., 117, 643. 

Hughes, Charles, 100. 

Hughes, William, 378. 

Hugo, Victor, 45, 46. 

Huguenots, 305. 

Huguinn, H. M., 658. 

Humber, 172, 173. 

Humphrey, , 229. 

Hungary, 495. 

Hunt, Mr. , 238. 

Hurstwood, 438. 

Husband, Walter, 654. 

Hyde, Edward, Earl of Clarendon, 612. 

"Iliad," 544, 545, 547, 548. 

Immerito, 132,310,313,437,454,456, 457, 

459- 
Imogen, 171. 
India, 551. 
"Inganni," 95. 
Ingleby, Dr. C. M., 19, 62, f^), 107, 396, 

493,639,643- 
Ingon, 255, 256. 
Ingram, John H., 482. 
Inquisition, the, 408. 
Invisibles, the, 401. 
"Iphis and lantha," iii. 



675 



INDEX 



Ireland, s, 17, 60, 344, 375, 440, 453, 454, 

459, 460, 461, 462, 514, 596. 
Ireland, Samuel, 252, 266, 267. 
Ireland, William Henry, 68, 262, 266, 267, 

268, 271, 272, 278, 411. 
Irving, Sir J. H. B., 658. 
Italians, the, 406. 
Italy, 5, 7, 307, 3i3, 4S9> S^S, S06, 617, 634. 

Jaggard, Isaac, 73, 90, 91, 95, 624, 627. 

Jaggard, W., 643, 658. 

Jaggard, William, 102, 103, 109, 498, 536. 

James I of England, James VI of Scotland, 
XX, xxi, 2, 13, 208, 321, 322, 323, 325, 328, 
334> 335, 336, 349, 35°, 392, 414, 415, 416, 
447,492, 507, 508, 514, 523, sso, 551, 584, 
585, 597, 599, 605, 606, 608, 622, 623. 

"James IV," 480. 

James V, King of Sotland, 514. 

James VI, see James I. 

James, G., 643, 654. 

Jamestown, 552. 

Janson, Bernard, 443. 

Janssen, Gerald, 233, 245, 248. 

Japan, 551. 

Jardine, David, 602, 603. 

Jennens, , 160, 234. 

Jennings, Hargrave, 401. 

Jennings, H. C, 239, 240. 

Jennings, John J., 659. 

"Jeronimo," 485. 

Jerusalem, 407. 

Jespersen, Otto, 643, 659. 

Jesuits, the, xix. 

"Jew of Malta, The," 468. 

Jewel, Bishop John, 13. 

Joan of Arc, 491. 

John, King of England, 195. 

John, King of France, 220, 221. See also 
"King John." 

Johnson, Gerard, 245. 

Johnson, Jesse, 644. 

•Johnson, Samuel, 43, 69, 71, 72, 141, 14S, 
226. 

Jones, , 433. 

Jones, Thomas, 43. 

Jonson, Ben, 16, 40, 44, 45, 49, 61, 62, 66, 
70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 79, 81, 84, 89, 
90,92,93,94,96,98, loi, 115,116,136, 
174, 230, 240, 245, 307, 308, 318, 339, 348, 
363, 388, 389, 437, 447, 474, 495, 516, 555, 
584, 585, 621, 623, 648, 656. 

Jordan, Mrs. Dorothy, 268. 

Jordan, John, 262, 263, 272. 
"Julius Caesar," 104, 107, 108, 167, 296, 362, 
455, 622. 

Justice Clodpate, 40. 

K., E., 459. 

K., H.. 445- 

Kant, Immanuel, 345. 

Keats, John, 357, 

Keck, Robert, 230. 



Keepe, Henry, 445, 446. 

Keiffer, J. W., 659. 

Keller, Helen, 659. 

Kellogg, A. O., 24. 

Kemble, John Philip, 268. 

Kempe, William, 53, 84, 620. 

Kendall, Frank A., 432, 644. 

Kent County, 197, 200, 206, 453, 509. 

Kester, 177. 

Kilcoran, 453. 

"King Darius," 14. 

"King Edward First," 478. 

"King Edward Second," iii. See also un- 
der Edward. 

"King John," 98, 103, 104, 118, 138, 139, 
140, 144, 148, 616, 617. 

"King Lear," 24, 97, 104, 118, 136, 152, 268, 
501, 616, 622, 624. 

King, Thomas D., 644. 

Kinnear, M. H., 646. 

Kintzel-Thumm, Magdalen, 156, 280, 285, 
286, 289, 290, 291, 292, 293, 294, 296, 

659- 

Kirk, Edward, 459. 

Klanke, , 644. 

Kneller, Sir Godrey, 230, 231. 

Knight, Charles, xxvi, 33, 34, 35, 36, 38, 121, 
123, 125, 126, 127, 129, 130, 131, 137, 141, 
142, 146, 147, 160, 167, 170, 174, 175, 177, 
178, 179, 181, 183, 252, 254, 255, 256, 259, 
260, 261, 262, 274, 304, 505, 627. 

Knortz, Von Karl, 644. 

Knott, J., 657, 659. 

Kok, A. S., 659. 

Konodes, P. C., 244. 

Kropotkin, , 302. 

Kuesswetter, H., 644. 

Kyd, Francis, 485. 

Kyd, Thomas, 16, 114, 115, 122, 123,364, 
481, 484, 485, 507. 

KyllcoUman, 452, 461. 

Lactantius, 430. 
Ladislaus II, 495. 
Lselius, C, 346. 
Laing, F. H., 292, 644. 
Laird, John, Jr., 644. 
Lamb, Charles, 185, 477. 
Lambert, John, 618. 
Lancashire, 438, 453. 

Lancaster, , 197, 198, 201, 202, 204. 

"Lancer," 659. 

Landor, Walter Savage, 644. 

Lane, Thomas, 89. 

Laneham, John, 52. 

Lang, Andrew, 93, 552, 644, 659, 660. 

Lathrop, G. P., 659. 

Latimer, Dr. Hugh, 3. 

"Law at Twickenham," 619. 

Lawrence, Sir Edwin Durning, 96, 249, 271, 

420, 634, 644, 648, 655. 
Lector, Oliver, 415, 644. 
Lee, R., 659. 



676 



INDEX 



Lee, Sir Richard, i66. 
Lee, Sidney, xxvi, xxviii, 1 6, 3 3 , 47, 48, 49, 52, 
S3, 54, 55, 69, 73, 85, 86, 87, 88, 90, 93, 
99, 102, 103, 113, IIS, "9, 123, 131, 133, 
136, 138, 139, 141, 156, 158, 227, 230, 231, 
244, 245, 247, 249, 260, 261, 296, 377, 481, 
483, 484, 48s, 534, 548, 549, 552, 615, 618, 
621, 627, 644, 649. 
Le Feria. See Feria. 
Leftwich, R. W., 644. 
Le Grys, Robert, 584, 585. 
Lehmann, Ludwig, 659. 
Leibnitz, Gottfried Wilhelm, 345. 
Leicester County, 232. 
Leicester, Earl of, see Dudley, Lord Robert, 

Earl of Leicester. 
Leicester, Earl of, his servants, 93. 
Leicester House, 453, 459. 
Leith, Miss A. A., 645. 
Lentzner, C. A., 645. 
Leopold Shakspere, The, 222. 
Lessing, Gotthold Ephraim, 348. 
Leti, Gregorio, 611. 
Levers, W., 644. 
Leverson, Richard, Kt., 150, 
Lewis, George Pitt, 645. 
Lewis, Sarah Anna, 431. 
Leyden, 357. 

Liberty at Shoreditch, 65. 
Liebig, Justus von, 294, 298, 300. 
Lilly's, William, Grammar, 41. 
Limerick, 453, 454. 
Lincoln, 604. 
Ling, Nicholas, 122. 
Lingard, John, 3, 10, 550, 601, 603. 
Lipsius, Justus, 388, 389. 
Liverpool, 240. 
Livy, 509. 

Lloyd, William Watkiss, 117. 
"Locrine," 110, 118, 163, 170, 171, 172, 

173, 174, 464, 465, 466, 467, 509. 
Lodge, Edmund, 516. 
Lodge, Thomas, 16, 66, 121. 
Lodowick, 2X1, 212, 214, 215, 216. 
LoUesbury, 479. 

London, xxiv, 11, 14,15,30,35,38,40,43,44, 
45, 50, 51, 52, 54, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60, 63, 64, 
65, 66, 67, 79, 82, 94, 99, 112, 113, 114, 
119, 121, 131, 151, 152, 154, 158, 164, 177, 
230, 232, 233, 237, 241, 243, 265, 266, 303, 
312, 372, 413, 419, 439, 440, 441, 446, 448, 
453, 458, 462, 469, 480, 481, 502, 513, 521, 
524, 585, 617, 619, 622, 627, 629. 
Bankside, 155. 
Battersea, 239. 
Bear Garden, 620. 
Bell Inn, 57, 59. 
Bishop of, 12. 
Bishopsgate, 510, 620. 
Boar's Head Tavern, 228, 236, 244. 
British Archives, 224. 
British Museum, 276, 277, 278, 284, 
294, 391, 443, 488, 490, 516, 548, 634, 652. 



Burbage's Stable, 50, 65, 235, 617. 

Burlington House, 240. 

Carter Lane, 57, 59. 

Castle Street, 228. 

Christ's Hospital, 469. 

Curzon Street, 228. 

Daily Telegraph, The, 650. 

Doctor's Commons, 277. 

Drury-House, 559, 607. 

Fire, the Great, 1 10. 

Gray's Inn, 15, 66, 130, 305, 308, 311, 
313, 318, 333, 372, 374, 437,490, 499, 52i, 
547, 617, 618, 619, 621, 622, 625. 

Guildhall, 276, 277, 278, 282, 284, 
294. 

Ham House, 612. 

Hampton Court, 130. 

Harleian Society, 439. 

Heralds College, 34, 77, 622. 

House of Commons, 3 16, 317, 320, 325, 

332, 333- 

House of Parliament, 502, 617. 

House of Peers, 317, 325, 350. 

Inner Temple Hall, 652. 

Inns of Court, 95. 

Leicester Square, 228. 

Liberty, Fields of, 65. 

Lombard Street, 511. 

Mayfair, 228. 

Merchant Taylor's Company, 439. 

Merchant Taylor's School, 446, 447, 

485- 

Moor-fields, xix. 

National Portrait Gallery, 227. 

New Shakespeare Society, 652. 

Newington, 50. 

Public Record Office, 52,269,271,275, 
277, 278, 284. 

Royal Garden, 29. 

Royal Society, 650. 

Ruffian, A., 181. 

St. Clements Danes, 439. 

St. Helens, 620, 621. 

St. Paul's Cross, 604. 

Shakespeare Society, 129. 

Shoreditch, xix, 65. 

South Kensington Shakespeare Show, 
240. 

Southwark, 50, 620. 

Star Chamber, 2, 154, 617. 

Stationers' Hall, 81. 

Stationers' Register, 114, 449, 452, 484, 
512. 

Tailors of, 249. 

Temple, 29, 490, 502. 

Temple Gardens, 490. 

Temple Hall, 490. 

Theaters, 15, 16; Blackfriars, 52, 53, 
429, 625, 626; Burbage's, 53, 112, 618; 
Chamberlain's, 620; Globe, 52, 53, 135, 
295, 296, 429, 626; Henslow's, 50, 125, 
141; at Newington, 50; at Shoreditch, 
65; at Southwark, 50. 



677 



INDEX 



Tower, 4, 7, 165, 197, 205, 207, 335, 
374, 375, 438, 556, SS7, 57°, S86, 600, 601, 
602, 605, 610, 623. 

Tyburn, 586. 

Westminster, 318, 331, 453, 459, 623. 

Westminster Abbey, 66, 237, 248, 337, 
441, 442, .444, 446, 447, 616. 

Westminster Hall, 652. 

Whitehall, 624. 

York House, 615. 
"London Prodigal, The," no, 135, 177. 
Long, Kingsmill, 584, 585, 586. 
Loosen, O., 645. 
Lopez, Roderigo, 618. 
Lorraine, Duke of, 209, 210. 
Louis n, 495. 
Louis Xin, 428. 
"Lover's Complaint, A," 624. 
"Love's Labours Lost," 56, 97, 104, 129, 
13 1, 132, 133, ISO, 373, 377, 428, 429, SIS, 
617, 621. 
"Love's Labours Won," 620. 
Lowell, James Russell, xxv, xxviii. 
Lowndes, William Thomas, 122, 123. 
Luce, 177, 178. 
Lucian, 137. 
"Lucrece," xxi, 16, 84, 100, 373, 434, 435, 

507, S19, 619. 
Lucy, Sir Thomas, 40, 42, 44. 
Lumley, H., 645. 
Lunenburg, 418. 
Luther, Martin, 408. 
Lyly, John, 66, 481. 
Lysons, Daniel, 233. 
Lytton, Lord Bulwer, 357. 

Mabie, Hamilton Wright, S67. 

McCarthy, Justin, 108. 

McGachan, B., 659. 

Macaulay, Thomas Babington, 324, 328, 

330, 331, 332, 333, 334, 341, 345, 346, 363, 

506, 507. 
Macbeth, King of Scotland, 514. 
"Macbeth," 104, 174, 39s, 455, 5^4, 

624. 
Mackay, Charles, 408, 659. 
Mackey, Albert G., 392. 
Mackintosh, Sir James, 334. 
Madden, D. H., 64s. 
Madrid, Biblioteca Nacional, 634. 
Madrid, Escurial, xx. 
Magnse Derivations, 429. 
Maine, 5S2. 

Maier, — , 395, 398, 399, 419. 

Mainwaring, Mr. , s8. 

Maistre, Joseph de, 341. 

Malines, 512. 

Mallet, David, 548. 

Mallock, W. H., 573, 574, S77, 579, 580, 

583> 659. 
Malone, Edward, 22, 33, 43, so, 69, 70, 71, 

72, 106, 113, 118, 119, 122, 123, I2S, 126, 

134, 142, 143, 144, 145, 146, 158, 163, 17s, 



229, 252, 2s6, 260, 262, 263, 270, 278, 282, 

283, 289, 294, 616, 627, 647. 
Mandan, John, 241. 
Manningham, John, 9s, 458. 
Mantua, 493. 

Mantua, Church of St. Barnabas, 492. 
Marchfeld, Battle of, 494 
Margaret of Valois, 305-306, 553, 558, 572, 

S86, S87, 588, 589, 591. 
Marlowe, Christopher, xxv, 66, 70, 126, 127, 

128, 137, 138, 140, 144, 146, 147, 170, 196, 

318, 364, 371, 410, 414, 438, 462, 463, 464, 

467, 468, 469, 480, 481, 482, 483, S07, 522, 

523, 536, 553, 554, 555. S6i, 566, 583; 650. 
Marlow, John, 480. 
Marmontel, 659. 
Marriott, E., 645. 

Marsham, , 10. 

Marston, R. B., S47, 548, 552, 659. 

Martial, 470. 

Martin, Sir T., 64s, 659. 

Marvin, F. R., 645. 

Mary of Burgundy, 49s. 

Mary, Princess, sii- 

Mary I of England, i, 3, 304, sn, 570. 

Mary, Queen of Scotland, xxiii, 4, 8, 13, 

236. 317, 319, 429, 4S0, 4SS, 549, 550, 

SSI, 566,569,586,597,600,613,646. 
Mascardus, Augustine, 388, 389. 
Mason, William, 444, 445, 448, 456, 457. 
Masonry, 392, 393, 401. 
Massachusetts, 634. 

Massey, , xxviii. 

Massinger, Philip, 16, 185, 389. 

Matthew, Sir Tobie, 296, 297, 320, 321, 327, 

337, 348, 363, 620, 624, 629, 64s, 649. 
Matthew, A. H., 645. 
Maud,_F. C, 645. 
Maudlin College, 331. 
Maurier, Aubrey de, 612. 
Maximilian I, 495. 
May, Thomas, 389. 
Mayence, 243. 
"Measure for Measure," 104, 296, 362, 455, 

623. 
Meautys, Thomas, 351. 
"Meditationse Sacrae," 620. 
Meeshel, O., 659. 
Melancthon, Philip, 414. 
Melville, James, 611. 
"Mensechmi, The," 130. 
"Menaphon," 120, 125, 485. 
Mendcnhall, Dr. T. C, 645, 660. 
Merchant Marks, 410. 
"Merchant of Venice, The," 97, 104, 362, 

455, 511, 618, 620, 622. 
Meres, Francis, 115, 118, 119, 138, 140, 470, 

481. 

Merricke, , 374. 

"Merry Devil of Edmonton, The," in, 178. 
"Merry Wives of Windsor, The," 56, 97, 

103, 104, 518, 623, 629. 
Messianic Cult, The, 21, 255, 292. 



678 



INDEX 



Michael, 182, 183. 

Michel, F., 645. 

Michels, J., 660. 

"Midas of Poetry," 62. 

Middleton, Thomas, 66, 107, 174. 

Midlands, the, 244. 

"Midsummer Night's Dream, A," 88, 89, 

97, 104, 357, 480, 619, 622. 
Mignault, Claude, 415. 
Milan, 242, 497, 617. 
Milan, Duchess of, 497. 
Milton, John, 63, 170, 308, 353, 355, 356, 

364, 407, 644. 
Mirandola, John Picus, Earl of, 388, 389. 
"Mirror of Martyrs, The," 107. 
"Mirror of Modesty, The," 556. 
Mobile, 250. 
Mocha, 551. 

Montagu, Basil, 297, 333, 627. 
Montaigne, Michel, 21, 269, 271, 272, 273, 

274, 3 13, 327, 346, 352, 412, 422, 423, 517. 
Montauban, 318. 
Montemayor, George de, 1 19. 
Montfort, John de, 218. 
Montgomery, Charles Alexander, 522, 634, 

645. 
Montgomery, Earl of, see Herbert Philip, 

Earl of Montgomery. 

Montjoy, , 606, 608. 

Moore, C. L., 660. 

Moore, H. L., 660. 

Moore, Stuart A., 36. 

Moore, Thomas, 506. 

Moravia, 494. 

More, Sir Thomas, 2. 

Morgan, Appleton, 53, 54, 645, 660. 

Morgan, Sydney, Lady, 505. 

Morley, John, 346. 

Mortimers, the, 197, 198, 199, 2CX), 201, 202, 

203, 204, 205, 206, 207. 
Morton, Samuel George, 250. 
Mosbie, 180, 181, 182, 183. 
"Mother Bombie," 161. 
"Mother Hubbard's Tale," 460. 
Mountague, Sir William, 210. 
Mountford, Thomas, 601. 
"Mucedorus," iii, 178. 
"Much Ado About Nothing," 97, 104, 597, 

622. 
Muller, Max, 519. 
Miiller, Mylius von Karl, 646, 660. 
Munday, Anthony, 66, 107, 167. 
Murray, Sir James A. H., 363, 519. 

Musgrave, , 439. 

Myttons, Mr. , 58. 

Nacke, P., 660. 

Naples, 495. 

Napoleon, 352. 

Nash, Thomas, 16, 66, 81, 84, 94, 120, 121, 

12s, 141, 143, 485. 
Naunton, Sir Robert, 593, 595. 
Navarre, 588, 617. 



Nero, 406. 

Netherlands, the, 455. 

Netherwood, 594. 

"New Atlantis, The," 402, 403, 423, 486, 

561, 568, 572, 610. 
New Bedford, 634. 
New England Patent, The, 323. 
New Literary Conundrum, 660. 
New Shakespeare Discoveries, 660. 
New Shakespeare Society, 652. 
New York Herald, xxvii. 
Newfoundland, 552. 
Newman, Cardinal, xxv. 
Newton, Sir Isaac, 300, 345. 
Nichol, John, 344, 345. 
Nicholas, Daniel, 275, 276. 

Nichols, , 488. 

Nicholson, A., 660. 

Nicholson, J. A., 646. 

Nicol, George, 229. 

Norfolk, 10. 

Norfolk, Duke of, 7, 516. 

Norris, Sir Henry, 439. 

North, Sir Thomas, 309. 

Northumberland, Duke of, 608, 640. 

Northumberland Manuscript, the, 346, 372, 

377, 429> 640. 
Norwich, 479. 
Nottingham, Lady. See Howard, Catherine, 

Countess of Nottingham. 
Nottingham, Lord Admiral, see Howard, 

Charles, Earl of Nottingham. 
"Noverint," 120. 
"Novum Organum," 339, 341, 360, 361, 

526. 
Nuremberg, 302. 

O'Connor, William D., 646. 
"Odyssey," 544, 548. 
Ogilby, John, 547. 

"Oldrastes and the Second Maiden's Trag- 
edy," III. 
Oldys, William, 43, 44, 438, 601, 628. 
"Orlando Furioso," 126. 
O'Neill, G., 646. 
"Order of Hamlet," 619. 
Ordish, T. Fairman, 646. 
Orleans, 311. 
Orleans University, 325. 
"Othello," 103, 104, 153, 247, 357, 362, 455, 

527, 565, 623. 
Ottokar, King, 494, 496. 
Overbury, Sir Thomas, 626. 
Ovid, 127, 130, 547. 
Owen, C. H., 661. 
Owen, Dr. Orville W., 523, 524, 525, 526, 

527, 529, 646. 
Oxford, so, 55, 66, 331, 342, 469. 

Bodleian Library, 311. 

Christ Church, 470. 

Clarendon Press, 505. 

Corpus Christi College, 40. 

Crown Inn, 55. 



679 



INDEX 



Dictionary, 66i. 
Magdalen College, 612. 
University, 121, 494, 634. 

P., J. W., 661. 

Pacific Ocean, 339. 

Packington, Lady, 624. 

Padua, 126, 505, 617. 

Page, Robert, 6. 

Palamon, 188, 189, 190, 192, 194. 

"Palamon and Arcite," 185. 

"Pandosto," 496. 

Paper Marks, see Water Marks. 

Paradin, Claude, 503, 504. 

"Paradise Lost," 661. 

"Parasceve," 556. 

Paris, 8, 70, 153, 318, 414, 521, 530, 584. 

Paris, French Academy, 506. 

Parkman, , xxv. 

Parmenides, xxv. 

Parris Garden, 121. 

"PassionatePilgrim, The,"90, 91, iii, 112. 

Passe, Simon, 251. 

Paulet, Amias, 305, 306, 309, 311, 460, 553, 

558,615. 
Paulet, Lady, 305. 
Pauvier, Thomas, 144. 
Peacham, Rev. Edward, 349. 
Peck, Geo. R., 661. 
Peckham Rye, 238. 
Peele, George, 16, 52, 66, 139, 140, 147, 175, 

196, 318, 364, 371, 438, 463, 468, 469, 470, 

477, 478, 479, 480, 481, 507, 523, 524, 536, 

553, 554, 555, 561, 583- 
Peele, James, 469. 
Pelham, Sir William, 440, 441. 
Pembroke, Earl of, see Herbert, William, 

Earl of Pembroke. 
Pembroke, Earl of, his servants, 126. 
Pembroke, Lord, 553, 598, 599, 625. 
Penzance, J. P. W., 646, 664. 
Pepys, Samuel, 357. 
Percy, Thomas, 115. 
Peregrinus, Petrus, 303, 340. 
"Pericles," 25, 97, 100, 109, no, 134, 135, 

136, 153, 178, 184, 417, 503, 616, 624. 
Perithous, 189, 191, 194, 195. 
Perry, M. J., 646. 
Persian Gulf, 551. 
Petrus. See Peregrinus. 
Peyne, Rev. A. de la, 336. 
Philip of Austria, 495. 
Philip II of Spain, 3, 8, 9, 455, 588. 
Philip IV of Spain, 335. 
Philippa, Queen, 219, 220. 
Philips, Augustine, 52, 624. 
Phillips, James Orchard, see Halliwell- 

PhiUips, J. O. 
Philomusus, 83. 
Phocylides, xxvi. 

Picus, John, Earl of Mirandola, 388, 389. 
"Piece-meal Poets," loi. 
"Pierce Penniless," 141. 



"Pinner of Wakefield, The," 480. 

Pisistratus, 32. 

"Planetomachia," 557. 

Plantin Press, the, 415. 

Plato, 423. 

Piatt, Dr. Isaac Hull, 412, 413, 429, 646, 

661. 
Plautus, 130, 300. 
Playfair, John, 345. 
Pliny, 102. 
Plumtree, Dean, 651. 
Plutarch, 107, 137, 308. 
Plymouth Colony, 552. 
Poe, Edgar Allan, 357, 430, 431, 432. 
"Poetaster," 81. 
Poet's Company, The, 52. 
Pollock, J., 661. 
Pollock, W.H., 661. 
Pope, Alexander, 17, loi, 136, 160, 167, 184, 

247, 345, 544, 547, 548, 550- 
Popham Colony, 552. 
Popham, Sir John, 324. 
Porta, Joan Baptista, 413, 579. 
Porter and Clark, 620. 
Porter, Charlotte, 137. 
Potamian, 302. 

Pott, Mrs. Henry, xxvi, 467, 653, 661. 
Pott, Louis, 647. 
Power, D'Arcy, 24. 
"Prince of Denmark," see Hamlet. 
Prior, Sir James, 647. 
Proctor, Bryan Waller, 136. 
Proctor, R. A., 661. 
Proelsz, Robert, 661. 
"Promos and Cassandra," 14. 
"Prompter's Books," loi. 
"Promus," 617, 619, 647, 648, 653, 660, 

662. 
"Prothalamion," 448. 
Psalms paraphrased, 354, 355. 
Puckering, Sir John, 316. 
Puntavolo, jy, 78, 79. 
"Puritan Widow, The," no, 174. 
Puritan, 304, 327, 328, 337, 396. 
Putney, 168. 

Puttenham, George, 306, 584. 
Puttenham, Richard, 584. 
Pyeboard, 175. 
Pyle, J. Gilpin, 647, 661. 
Pyramid, the Great, 251. 
Pythagoras, xxvi. 

Q., W. F., 661. 

Quarles, Francis, 409. 

Quartos, the, xxix, 97, 98, loi, 103, 105, 113, 
121, 122, 124, 125, 126, 137, 141, 164, 170, 
184, 208, 358, 412, 413, 483, 501, 512, 513. 

Queenes Majesties Children of the Chap- 
pell, 52. _ 

Quiney, Richard, 57, 59. 



R., F., 661. 
Radcliffe, George, 444. 

680 



INDEX 



Raeder, Dr. , 647. 

Rait, , 549, SSo, 552. 

Ralegh, Sir Walter, 70, 296, 454, 552, 597, 

601, 602, 604, 623. 
Ralegh, Walter, Jr., 70, 71, 
Randolph, Thomas, 440. 
Rapafort, S., 661. 

Raphael, , 386. 

Rapp, C. M., 647. 

Ratsey episode, 53, 81, 82, 83. 

Ratsey, Gamalial, 53, 81, 82, 83. 

Ravenscroft, Edward, 115. 

Rawley, William, xxii, 297, 305, 307, 337, 

343, 348, 358, 381, 399, 400, 410, 416, 42s, 

435, 436, 437, 500, 515, 536, 562, 629, 

647. 
Raynal, L. de, 647. 
Raysing, Rose, 116. 
Red Cross, Order of the, 393, 394, 396. 
Redgrave, 443. 
Redway, George, 636. 
Reed, E., 661. 

Reed, Edwin, xxvi, xxvii, 86, 371, 500, 647. 
Reed, S. R., 661. 
Rees, James, 656. 
Reichel, Eugen, 648. 
Rein, Ad., 661. 
Remusat, Charles de, 648. 

Replington, Mr. , 58. 

"Return from Parnassus, The," 83, 387, 

388,421. 

Reusner, , 503. 

Revel at Court, 106, 240. 

"Revenge of Hamlet," 121, 512. 

Reynolds, Sir Joshua, 229. 

Reynolds, S. H., 505. 

Richard II, King of England, 374, 496,600. 

"Richard II," 98, 104, 141, 142, 372, 373, 

.374, 375, 376, 377, 619, 620. 
Richard II, Queen of, 29. 
"Richard III," 33, 55, 97, 98, 103, 104, 146, 

174, 196, 372, 377, 619, 620. 
Richard, Duke of York, 146. 

Richardson, , 228. 

Richardson, G. F., 662. 

Richardson, John, 47. 

Richmond, the Earl of, 33. 

Ring Story, see Essex's Ring. 

Ritson, Joseph, 130. 

Roanoke, 542. 

Roberts, James, 102. 

Robertson, John M., xxvii, 99, 119, 158, 

296, 364, 377, 552, 648. 
Robinson, H. J., 552. 
Rochester, 183, 604. 
Rochester, the Bishop of, 164. 
Rocky Mountains, 339. 
Roe, J. E., 648. 
Rogers, Phillip, 57, 623. 
Rolfe, William J., 127, 128, 134, 140, 151, 

662. 
"Romance of Appollonius, Tyrias, The," 

135- 



Romano, Giulio, 492, 493 . 

Rome, 5, 75, 139, 300, 617. 

Rome, the Vatican, 386. 

"Romeo and Juliet," 98, 104, 125,357,455, 

558, 618, 620. 
Ronsard, Pierre de, xxi, 17, 306, 307, 

308. 
Roscius, 75. 
Rose, C. H., 662. 
Rose, E., 662. 
Rose Cross, Rosecrucians, Rosecrucianism, 

312, 392, 393, 394, 395, 396, 397, 398, 399, 

400, 401, 402, 403, 419, 424, 436, 437, 652. 
Rosalind, 381. 

Rosewell, Mr. , 58. 

Rotterdam, 388, 389. 

Rowe, Nicholas, xxviii, 33, 41, 42, 43, 44, 

64, 68, 69, 70, 113, 124, 133, 134, 167, 

248, 627, 628. 
Rowlands, John, 648. 
Rowley, William, 136, 185. 
Roxburgh, Castle, 210. 
Rudolph of Ems, 430. 
Rudolph of Hapsburg, 494. 

Ruggles, , XXV. 

"Ruins of Rome, The," 307, 465, 466. 
Rushton, William Lowes, 648. 
Russell, W. E., 662. 
Russia, I, 131, 440, 
Russia, Tzar of, 621. 
Rutland, Lord, 626, 640, 656. 

"S.,"630. 
S., E. W., 648. 
S.,J., 651. 
S., L. H., 648. 
S., W., 509. 

Sadler, , 270. 

Sagadahoc, 552. 

"Sailing of Ships, The," 489, 625. 

St. Albans, xxii, 165, 297, 303, 336, 351, 

465, 500, 502, 509, 518, 616, 617. 
St. Albans, St. Michael's Church, 350. 
St. Andrews, 429. 
St. Barnabas Day, 452. 
Saint-George, Henry, 648. 
St. Petersburg, Biblioteka, 634. 
Saintsbury, George E. B., 16, 308. 
Salisbury, the Countess of, 210, 211, 212, 

213, 214, 216, 217. 
Salisbury, Lord, 218. 
Salisbury, Marquis of, 61 1. 
Sallust, 509. 

Salusbury, Sir John, 430, 431. 
Sambucus, 503. 
Sandells, Fulk, 47. 
Sanders, G. A., 236, 648. 
Sandes, Sandys, George, 389, 547. 
Sarrazin, Gregor, 485. 
"Satiromastix," 121, 149. 
Savage, M. J., 662. 
Scadding, Rev. Henry, 21. 
Scaliger, Joseph, 388, 389. 



681 



INDEX 



Scaliger, Julius Caesar, 388, 389, 390. 

Schaible, C. H., 648. 

Schelling, F. E., 648. 

Schipper, Jakob, 648. 

Schlegel, A. W. von, xxiv, 59, 163, 167, 
170, 174, 348. 

Schmidt, Alexander, 519. 

Schneider, Karl, 662. 

Schooling, J. H., 662. 

Scipio, 346. 

Scot, Michael, 302. 

Scotland, 484, 514, 550. 

Scotland, King of, 605, 608, 609. 

Scope, Lady, 613. 

Scott, Edward John Lord, 457. 

Scott, Sir Walter, 484. 

Scotts, the, 208, 211. 

Scotts, Queen of. See Mary, Queen of 
Scots. 

Seager, H. W., 28. 

Sears, L., 662. 

Seckerstone, Roger, 452. 

Sedgwick, A. G., 662. 

"Sejanus," 623. 

Seldon, John, 388, 389. 

Seleneus, 418. 

"Seliman and Perseda," 485. 

"Selinus," 118, 464, 468, 480. 

Seneca, 417. 

Servetus, Michael, 339. 

Serviss, G. P., 662. 

"Sesers Falle," 107; see also "Julius CseSar." 

Severn, Charles, 40, 44, 49. 

Seymour, Lord Thomas, 3. 

Shackford, C. C, 662. 

Shakebag, 181. 

Shakespeare, a village, 420. 

Shakespeare Society, 129. 

Shakespeare, William, Works of, xxii, xxiii, 
xxiv, XXV, xxvi, xxvii, xxviii, xxix, 16, 17, 
18, 19, 21, 22, 24, 25, 28, 29, 30, 32, 33, 41, 
51,52,60,62,63, 6s, 69, 72, 76,77, 84, 85, 
87,99, 108, no. III, 115, 116, 117, 118, 
119, 120, 121, 123, 125, 127, 128, 129, 132, 
133, 137, 139, i40> 144. HS. 146, 147, 162, 
163, 195, 207, 208, 222, 227, 243, 244, 249, 
254, 25s, 271, 272, 274, 284, 293, 295, 299, 
301, 309, 316, 341, 344, 346, 352, 355, 356, 
358, 361, 362, 363, 364, 365, 367, 371, 372, 

374. 377, 410, 413. 414, 419, 436, 45S> 462, 
463, 464, 469, 475, 478, 480, 481, 482, 483, 
484, 486, 494, 503, 504, 505, 506, 509, 519, 
522, 523, 534, 536, 544, 548, 553, 554, 561, 
566, 572, 579, 581, 583, 616, 618, 619, 620, 
626, 627, 630, 639, 640, 642, 646, 647, 648, 
649, 652, 653, 659, 662, 663. 

Shakespeare, William, a glazier, 264. 

Shakespeare, William, may have lost the 
ring, 263, 264. 

Shakespearean, A. 635. 

Shakspere, Guil, 231. 

Shakspere, Hamnet, 617, 620. 

Shakspere, Jeames, 256. 



Shakspere, John, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 41, 
47, 81, 98, 253, 254, 256, 257, 258, 259, 
260, 264, 265. 

Shakspere, Judith, 152, 283, 617. 

Shakspere, Susanna, 616, 624. 

Shakspere, William. 

Actor, xxiv, xxv, xxvi, xxvii, 14, 17, 18, 
20, 28, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 
42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 51, 52, 53, 54, 
55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60, 62, 63, 64, 65, 69, 70, 
72, 74, 76, 77, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 85, 86, 87, 
88, 89, 90, 91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97, 99, 100, 
105, 106, 109, III, 112, 115, 116, 117, 118, 
119, 120, 121, 123, 124, 125, 126, 127, 128, 
129, 130, 131, 132, 133, 134, 135, 136, 137, 
138, 139, 140, 141, 142, 143, 144, 145, 146, 
147, 148, 149, 150, 151, 154, 155, 156, 157, 
160, 163, 164, 167, 169, 170, 174, 175, 177, 
179, 183, 184, 185, 195, 208, 209, 224, 225, 
226, 227, 228, 230, 231, 232, 233, 235, 236, 
237, 240, 241, 243, 244, 245, 248, 253, 254, 
263, 271, 274, 287, 289, 291, 292, 295, 299, 
300, 301, 303, 308, 346, 347, 348, 352, 356, 
361, 362, 372, 373, 374, 377, 384, 385, 386, 
389, 395, 396, 399, 413, 421, 426, 435, 436, 
438, 447, 450, 458, 463, 480, 485, 493, 497, 
499, 503, 513, 519, 524, 526, 528, 566, 615, 
616, 617, 618, 619, 620, 621, 622, 623, 624, 
625, 626, 627, 628, 630, 644, 645, 647, 648, 
649, 650, 651, 652, 653, 654, 655, 656, 657, 
658, 659, 660, 661, 662. 

Birthplace, 253, 254, 255, 256, 257, 258, 
259, 261, 262, 265. 

Coat of arms, 34, 77, 621. 
Death masks, the Becker, 243; the 
Stratford, 243, 244. 

Gloves, 162, 247, 264, 265. 

Hair, lock of, 267. 

Ireland forgeries, 266, 267, 268. 

Portraits, statues, etc.; the Ashbourne, 

234, 235; Becker's, 243; Burn's, 240; 
Chandos', 227, 228, 229, 230, 246; Droes- 
hout's, 72, 73, 224, 227, 229, 231, 234, 

235, 238, 239, 241, 244, 245, 248, 250, 251, 
277, 308; Dugdale's, 246, 247, 248; the 
Dulwich, 233; the Ely House, 238; the 
Felton, 227, 228, 229, 231, 233; the 
Flower, 238, 245; the Grafton, 235; Gave- 
lot's, 247; Gower's, 248; Grignion's, 247; 
the Holder, 30, 236, 240, 241; the Janssen, 
233, 234, 235, 245; the Jennings, 239; 
Johnson's, 245; Kneller's, 230, 231; the 
marriage picture, 241; the Roubillac, 248; 
Sanders', 236; in Stratford Church, 238, 
245, 253; Virtue, 247; the Winstanley, 
240; the Zincke, 30, 236, 240, 241; the 
Zoust, 237; the Zucchero, 236. 

Seal ring, 263, 264. 

Signatures of, 269, 270, 271, 272, 273, 
274, 275, 277, 278, 279, 280, 282, 284, 
285, 290, 291, 293. 

Silver gilt bowl, 54, 265. 

Tombstone, 93, 251, 252, 522, 655. 



682 



INDEX 



Will, 265, 269, 276, 277, 279, 280, 

283, 287, 288, 291. 
Shakspere's Company, 52, 53. 
Shapleigh, 652, 664. 
Sharpe, R. F., 648. 

Shaw, Mr. , 93, 94. 

Shaw, Bernard, 62. 
Shea, John Gllmary, 543. 
Sheffield, Douglass, 596. 
Shelley, Percy Bysshe, 63, 357. 
"Shepherd's Calendar, The," 15, 17, 

454, 456, 459, 460, 470, 509, 558. 
Sheppard, Thomas, 648. 
Shillingford, John, 36. 
Shotbolt, 420. 
Shottery, 57, 621. 
Shropshire, 228. 
Siam, 551. 

Siddons, Mrs. Sarah, 247. 
Sidney, Sir Henry, 454, 461. 
Sidney, Sir Philip, xxv, 7, 14, 16, 87, 121, 

388, 389. 
Siegle, A., 649. 
Sigismund, Count, 495. 
Simancas AISS., 9. 
Sinnett, A. P., 662. 

"Sir Charles Clyomon and Clamydes," 
"Sir John Oldcastle," no, 112, 135, 

164, 167, 170. 
"Sir Simon Two Shares, and a Halfe,' 

82. 
Skottowe, Augustine, 122. 

Sloman, , 228. 

Slv, Christopher, 398, 399. 

Sly, William, 168. 

Smedley, William T., 104, 413, 414, 415, 

423, 514- 516, 630, 634, 649. 
Smith, F. B. V., 663. 
Smith, G., 649, 663. 
Smith, John, 655. 
Smith, Capt. John, 74. 
Smith, Lucy Toulmin, 643. 
Smith, D. Nichol, 43. 
Smith, Sir Thomas. 7, 167, 170 
Smith, William, 170. 
Smith, William, of Stratford, 263. 
Smith, William Henry, xxvi, xxvii, 249, 

649, 653, 663. 
Smyth, William, 38. 
Snitter-Field, 258. 
Socrates, 422. 

Sogl'ardo, yj, 78, 79, 81, 96. 
Solomon's House, 401. 
" Solyman and Perseda," 118 
Soraers, John, 625. 
Somers, Wilham, 97, 513. 
Somerset, Countess of, 626. 
Somerset, Duchess of, 613. 
Somerset, Earl of, 625, 626. 
Sonnets, Bacon's, 624, 643. 
Sonnets, Shakspere's, xxi, 20,94, ii7> 

149, 150, 151, 214, 316, 378, 379, 384, 

45°, 455, 539> 640, 642, 644, 650, 659, 



281, 



66, 



306, 



478. 
163, 

'53, 



422, 



639, 



148. 
386, 
660. 



Sonnets, Spenser's, 455, 456, 469. 

Sothern, Edward H., 663. 

Soto, Hernando, 503. 

Southampton Correspondence, 267. 

Southampton, Earl of, 49, 55, 60, 67, 68, 69, 
70, 99, 233, 240. 376, 489, 552, 559, 608, 
618, 619, 625. 

Southwell, Edward, 40. 

Spain, xix, xx, 3, 5, 8, 139, 317, 335, 506, 
527, 528, 634. 

Spain, King of, 527, 608. 

Spanish Tragedy, The, 118, 485. 

"Spectator, The," 229. 

Spedding, James, xxvi, 30, y6, 297, 299, 305, 
310, 311, 312, 319, 320, 321, 332, 334, 337, 
341, 342, 351, 354, 355, 358, 359, 360, 361, 
363, 399, 400, 401, 410, 436, 477, 499, 500, 
521, 533, 605, 606, 607, 619, 623, 627, 629, 
649, 663. 

Speed, John, 334. _ 

Spelman, Lady Elizabeth, 612. 

Spence, Joseph, 547, 548. 

Spencer, Gabriel, 70. 

Spencer, Hugh, 203. 

Spencers, the, 204. 

Spenser, Edmund, ist, 438, 439. 

Spenser, Edmund, 2d, 438, 439. 

Spenser, Edmund (Colin), xxi, 16, 17, 87, 88, 
89, 90, 174, 307, 310, 345, 352, 371, 388, 
389, 411, 412, 414, 425, 427, 438, 439, 440, 
441, 442, 443, 444, 445, 446, 447, 448, 449, 
452, 453, 454, 456, 457, 458, 459, 460, 461, 
462, 463, 464, 465, 466, 467, 468, 472, 474, 
475, 480, 508, 509, 523, 554, 559, 561, 574, 

583. 
Spenser, F. F., 438. 
Spenser, Florence, 439. 
Spenser, James, 441. 
Spenser, John, 438, 439, 440, 447, 448. 
Spenser, Robert, 438. 
Spenser, Sylvanus, 452, 453. 
Spurcock, Sir Lancelot, 177, 178. 
"Stage Plays and their Evils," 11. 

Stapfer, , xxvii. 

Stanton, H., 284. 

States of the Church, 495. 

Staunton, Howard, 123, 617. 

Stearns, Charles W., 649. 

Stedman, E. C, 663. 

Steel, C. F., 649. 

Steevens, George, 33, 35, 43, 69, 71, 72, loi, 

103, 113, 126, 130, 134, 145, 160, 161, 170, 

226, 228, 229, 234, 245, 252, 270, 272, 278, 

281, 283, 293. 
Steeves, G. Walter, 649. 
Stevens, Henry, 634. 
Stephen, H. L., 603, 604. 
Stephen, L., 663. 
Stewart, Mrs. Hinton, 649. 
Stillwell, C. B., 649. 
Stoddard, W. L., 649, 663. 
Stone, Nicholas, 443, 444, 446, 447. 
Stony Stratford, 509. 



683 



INDEX 



Stopes, Charlotte C, 649. 

Storojenko, P., 649, 663. 

Stotzenburg, J. H., 649. 

Stow, John, 442, 445, 446, 447. 

Strachey, William, 489. 

Strang, M. W., 649. 

Strange's Servants, The, 50, 618. 

Stranguage, Wil, xxiii, 429. 

Strasburg, 430. 

Stratford, XXV, xxvi, xxix, 14, 17,20,21,22,25, 
28, 32, 35, 36, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 45, 46, 48, 
50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60, 62, 
63, 64, 66, 82, 83, 88, 91, 93, 99, 116, 145, 
ISS, 158, 232, 236, 238, 241, 247, 251, 254, 

255, 256, 257, 259, 260, 261, 262, 263, 266, 
272, 276, 279, 288, 291, 303, 374, 438, 463, 
484, 493, 497, 509, 513, 615, 618, 624, 625, 
626, 629, 645, 646, 648, 658. 

Bacillus, 234. 

Birthplace of Shakspere, 253, 254, 255, 

256, 257, 258, 259, 261, 262, 265, 291, 292, 

634-. 

Birthplace Trustees, 238, 244. 

Books in, 42, 51, 61, 158. 

Chapel Street, 620. 

Church Yard, 263. 

Conflagrations in, 254, 261. 

Free School, 37, 41, 42, 51. 

Garrick Jubilee, 236, 256, 260, 265, 
266. 

Grammar School, 281, 616. 

Greenhill, 255, 259, 260. 

Hell Lane, 257. 

Henley Street, 253, 254, 255, 256, 257, 
258, 259, 260, 264, 265. 

Holy Cross Chapel, 37. 

Holy Trinity Church, 245. 

Houses in, 254, 260, 261. 

Memorial Gallery, 237. 

Myths, 265. 

New Place, 34, 58, 59, 60, 69, 154, 230, 
262, 263, 620, 622, 623, 626, 628. 

Privy Council, 254. 

Shakspere's Crab Tree, 45. 

Shakspeare Library, 266. 

Tombstone inscriptions, 93, 251, 252, 
522,655. 

Vicar of, 44. 

Winter's plan, 256-257, 258. 

Wool shop, the, 253, 254, 257, 265. 
Stratford actor, The. See Shakspere, Wil- 
liam. 
Stratford Cult, Stratfordians, xxviii, 31, 45, 
55, 63, 88, 93, 98, 114, 128, 140, 143, 148, 
154, 156, 158, 161, 234, 238, 245, 259, 261, 
262, 269, 270, 273, 276, 280, 292, 296, 346, 
377, 413, 415, 469, 484, 500, 503, 504, 505, 
507, 534, 544, 552, 579, 600, 614. 
Stronach, George, 429, 649, 663. 
Strowski, Fortunate, 422. 
Strutt, Joseph, 226. 
Strype, John, 13, 445. 
Strzelecki, Adolf, 649. 



Stuart, House of, 556. 

Stuart, Mary. See Mary, Queen of Scotland. 

Stuart Reign, The, v, 224, 364. 

Stubbes, Philip, 11. 

Stubbs, John, 6, 439. 

Studentskaia, E., 663. 

Sturley, Abraham, 57, 59. 

Styria, 494, 495. 

Suffolk, England, 443, 

Suffolk, Duke of, 516. 

Sullivan, Sir Edward, 658, 663. 

Surat, 551. 

Surrey, Earl of, 516. 

Surrey, Henry Howard, Earl of, 352. 

Surtees, Scott, 650. 

Sussex, Earl of, 372. 

Sutton, Rev. W. A., 650. 

Swabia, 495. 

Swalley, 551. 

Swedenborg, Emanuel, 397. 

" Sweet Swan of Avon, The," 74, y6, 77. 

Swinburne, Algernon Charles, 179, 663. 

Sydney, Sir Henry, 9. 

"Sylva Sylvarum," 500, 501, 502, 562. 

Sylvester, Josuah, 389. 

Symmons, Charles, 33, 246. 

Sympson, , a Jew, 511, 618. 

T., D., 650. 

Tacitus, Cornelius, 372, 376, 586. 

Talbot, , 400. 

Tamberlaine, 399, 464, 467, 468, 481, 482. 
"Taming of the Shrew, The," 98, 104, 113, 

115, 125, 126, 127, 128, 129, 148, 357, 398, 

399, 480, 482, 483, 617. 
"Tamora and Andronici," 115. 
Tarbeck, 43. 

Tarlton, Richard, 87, 88, 629. 
Tasso, Torquato, 236. 
Taverner, Prof. J. W., 650. 
Taylor, John, 232, 388, 389, 390. 
Taylor, Joseph, 230. 
"Tempest, The," 21, 104, 132, 153, 344, 

434, 489, 625. 
Temple Grafton, 46, 617. 
Tennyson, Alfred, Lord, 663. 
Terence, 346, 347. 
Terentius Lucanus, 346. 
Tetzlaff, A., 650. 
Thales, xxv. 

Thayer, William R., 650, 663. 
Theaters, see under London. 
Thebes, King of, 186. 
Theobald, Lewis, iii, 117, 130. 
Theobald, Robert M., 207, 208, 650, 663. 
Theobald, William, 650. 
Theseus, 185, 186, 187, 188, 189, 190, 191, 

193- 
Thetmore, Lord, 461. 
"Thomas Lord Cromwell," no, 163, 167, 

168, 169, 170, 177. 
Thompson, Dr. William, 639. 
Thomson, William, 651. 



684 



INDEX 



Thornbury, 594. 

Thorne, W. H., 663. 

Thorpe, Thomas, 149. 

Thorpe, W. G., 90, 154, 156, 159, 296, 651, 
663. 

Thrasimachus, 173. 

Throckmorton Manuscript, 611. 

Thumb Marks, 489. 

Thumm, see Kintzel-Thumm, Magdalen. 

Thurston, Rev. Herbert, 577, 578, 579, 663. 

Thynee, Frances, 613. 

Thaynne, Rev. Lord John, 613. 

Thaynne, Thomas, Viscount Weymouth, 
613. 

Tidder, Frances, 652. 

Tidder, Tidir, Robert, 610, 611. 

Tides, 498. 

Tieck, Ludwig, 127, 163, 167, 170, 177, 179, 
480. 

Timmins, Samuel, 123, 124, 156, 651, 653. 

"Timon of Athens," 105, 136, 137, 152, 184. 

Title-pages, 418, 637. 

Titmarsh, , 651. 

"Titus Andronicus," 98, lOO, 104, 105, IIO, 
114, 116,117,118, 148,478,527.561,616, 
622. 

Todd, Henry John, 439. 

Tolman, A. H., 663. 

Tolstoy, Leo, 31, 62, 63. 

Torquemada, Thomas de, 407. 

Touse, , 458. 

Towne, E. C, 663. 

Townsend, George H., xxvii, 625, 651. 

"Tragedies and Comedies made of one Al- 
phabet," 620. 

"Tragedy of Arthur, The," 617. 

"Treaties of Melancholic," 486, 487, 488, 

527, 544- 
Tree, Beerbohm, 108. 
Trelawny Papers, 410. 
Trithemius,4i3, 418. 
Tritons, The, 501, 502. 
"Troia, Britanica," 91. 
"Troilus and Cressida," 97, 104, 152, 509, 

624. 

Trotter, , 462. 

"Troublesome 'Reign of King John," see 

"King John." 
Troynovant, 174. 
True, Prof. Latham, 502, 634. 
"True Tragedy, The," 98. 
Trundell, John, 122. 
Tschischwitz, 160. 
Tubingen University, 414. 
Tudor, old spelling of the name, 610, 61 1. 
Tudors, times of the, xix, i, 2, 6, 55, 114, 

224, 364, 397, 426. 
Tullidge, E. W., 664. 
Tupper, Martin Farquhar, 357. 
Turberville, George, 440. 
Tuscany, Grand Duke of, 320. 
Twain, 54, 639. 
Tweeds, the, 391. 



"Twelfth Night," 95, 104, 357, 555. 

Twickenham, 521, 618, 619, 621, 622. 

Twickenham Park, 638. 

Twine, Lawrence, 135. 

"Two Gentlemen of Verona," 104, 119, 120, 

131, 132, 497, 616, 618. 
"Two Noble Kinsmen," iii, 184, 185. 
Tyburn, 70. 
Tyler, Dame, 44. 
Tyndall, John, 344. 
Tyrol, Count of, 495. 
Tytler Papers, 611. 

Udall, W., xxiii. 

Ulrici, Dr. Hermann, 116, 167, 208. 

Ulster, 461. 

University of Nebraska, 274. 

"Upon the Effigies," 536. 

Upton, John, 31, 115, 120. 

Usher, Arland, 461. 

Vaile, E. O., 664. 

Vantrollier, Thomas, 316. 

Varance, B., 664. 

Vasari, Giorgio, 492, 493. 

Vaughan, William, 481. 

"Velarius, Terminus," 623. 

Velasquez, 335. 

Venice, 177, 505, 617. 

"Venus and Adonis," 16, 44, 61, 68, 84, 99, 
100, 154, 239, 515. 617, 618, 645. 

Verona, 497. 

Versailles, 506. 

Vertue, George, 247, 443. 

Verulam, Baron, see Bacon, Francis. 

Victoria, Queen, 349, 652. 

Vienna, 617. 

Villemain, M. J., 664. 

Villiers, George, Duke of Buckingham, 322, 
323, 326, 329, 335, 349, 507, 629. 

Villiers, Katherine, Duchess of Bucking- 
ham, 323. 

Vince, C. A., 655. 

Vinton, A. D., 664. 

Virgil, 130, 306, 506, 544, 561. 

Virgil in Poetic Art, A, 62. 

Virginia, 344, 552, 624. 

Virginia Company, The, 552, 625. 

"Visions of Bodies, The," 489. 

Vitzthum von Eckstaedt, C. F., 65 1. 

"Vortgerne," 268. 

Vossius, Conradus, 388, 389. 

Vossius, Gerardus, 388, 389. 

Wadeson, Anthony, 52. 
Wagstaffe, 420. 
Waite, A. S., 395, 401, 404. 
Waites, A., 664. 
Walcott, J.,,664. 
Waldenses, the, 406. 
Wales, 337. 

Walker, , 167. 

Walker, William, 625. 



68s 



INDEX 



Wallace, A. R., 664. 

Wallace, Prof. Charles W., 64, 269, 274, 276, 

280, 284, 29s, 642, 660, 662, 664. 
Wallace, P. M., 664. 
Walpole, Horace, 337, 357, 443, 444. 
Walsh, James J., 303, 340, 341. 
Walsh, W. S., 664. 

Walsingham, , 521. 

Walton, Judge, , 293. 

Walton, Isaac, 89. 

Warburton, John, 195. 

Warburton, William, 131. 

Ward, John, 247, 264. 

Ward, Rev. John, 39, 40, 43, 44, 49, 

Ware, William R., 634. 

Warner, Sir Charles, 613. 

Warner Ring, the, 613, 614. 

Warwick, , 197, 204, 213, 214, 218. 

Warwickshire, 38, 41, 43, 46, 66, 115, 127, 

246, 253, 484, 509, 617. 
Warwickshire, Charlecot, 43. 
Warwickshire Dialect, 78. 
Warwickshire Peasantry, 60. 
Washington, D.C., "Republic, The," 653. 
Wateley, Anne, 46. 

Water-Marks, 406, 408, 409, 410, 411. 
Waters, Henry Fitz-Gilbert, 116, 484. 
Waters, Robert, 150, 651. 
Watts, Gilbert, 533. 
Weaver, John, 622. 
Webb, E., 664. 
Webb, T.E., 651. 
Webster, John, 16, 66, 107. 
Weeks, Edward, 153. 
Weever, John, 107. 
Weiss, John, 651. 
Welcombe, 57, 58. 
Weldon, Sir Anthony, 508, 621. 
Wellstood, Fred. C, 292, 634. 
Wendell, Barrett, 71. 

West, , 288. 

West India, 613. 

West Indies, 625. 

Westminster, see under London. 

Weymouth, Viscount. S^^Thaynne,Thomas. 

Wheeler, John, 38. 

Wheeler, Robert Bell, 261. 

Whetstone, George, 454. 

Whipple, Edwin P., xxv. 

White, Rev. Andrew, 534. 

White, F. M., 651. 

White, Horace, 108. 

White, R. C, 664. 

White, Richard Grant, xxvii, 22, 33, 42, 49, 

51,54,69,86, 99, 120, 122,135,136,160, 

246, 482, 483, 651. 
White, T. W., 651. 
Whitgift, Archbishop John, 47, 305, 515, 

596. 
Whitman, Sidney, 63. 
Whitman, Walt, xxv, 357. 
Whitney, Geoffrey, 503, 517. 
Whittier, John G., xxv, xxviii. 



Whittington, Thomas, 48. 

Wieland, Christoph Martin, 348. 

Wigand, Otto, 285. 

Wigston, W. C. F., 399, 401, 651. 

Wilde, Sir James Plaisted, xxviii, 22, 31. 

Wilde, Oscar, 149. 

Wilkes, George, 650, 652. 

Wilkins, George, 136. 

Willis, W., 652. 

Willobie, Henry, 100. 

Wilmecote, 34. 

Wilson, Mr. , 167, 629. 

Wilson, W. E., 92. 

Wilton, 296, 453. 

Wilton, Pembroke House, 623. 

Wilton, Lord, xx. 

Winchell, Prof. , xxv, xxviii. 

Winchelsea, Earl of, 613. 
Winchelsea, Mary, Countess of, 613. 
Winchester, 331, 623. 
Winchester, Bishop of, 441, 442. 
Wincot, 484. 

Windle, Mrs. C. F. Ashmead, 652. 
Winsor, Justin, 652, 664. 

Winstanley, , 174. 

Winstanley, , auctioneer, 240. 

Winter, W., 664. 

Winter's plan, 256-257, 258. 

"Winter's Tale, The," 21, 24, 104, 153, 492, 

493, 494, 495, 496. 
Winwood, Sir Ralph, 322, 601, 602. 
"Wit's Miserie," 121. 
Wither, George, 389. 
Wolsey, Cardinal Thomas, 168, 516, 549. 
Wood, Anthony A., 440. 
Woodberry, G. E., 664. 
Woodward, Parker, 634. 
Worcester, 47. 
Wordsworth, William, 62. 
"Works of Recreation," 620. 
Wotton, Sir Henry, 594. 
Wright, J., 484. 
Wright, Thomas, 12. 
Wriothesley, Henry, 378. 
Wyat, Sir Thomas, 352. 
Wycombe, see High Wycombe. 
Wyman, W. H., 653. 
Wulker, V. R., 664. 



Xenophon, 299. 
Yardley, 



-, 128, 348. 
Yates, Edward, 521. 
Yeatman, John Pyne, 280. 

Yelverton, , 625. 

York, House of, 426. 

"Yorkshire Tragedy, A," no, 135, 175, 179, 

624. 
Younge, Dr. , 444. 

Zincke, , 30, 236, 240, 241. 

Zoust, , 237. 

Zucchero, , 236. 













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